


One Little Spark- Part 2

by WishExpedition23



Category: All Media Types, Disney Kingdoms (Comics), FIGMENT Marvel comics
Genre: Algar, Based on the Characters from the Comics, Disney, Dr. Channing, Dreamfinder - Freeform, FIGMENT Comics, Journey Into Imagination - Freeform, Marvel Comics - Freeform, Multi, One Little Spark, Original Characters - Freeform, figment - Freeform, rachel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2019-11-23 02:45:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 70,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18145838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WishExpedition23/pseuds/WishExpedition23
Summary: Picking up where the first part left off, upon surviving the wrath of the living embodiment of Rachel's long abandoned but haunting fears, Blair Mercurial the Dreamfinder, his imaginary friend Figment, his love Rachel, and her newly created imaginary friend, Algar the Gryphon, continue their journey into imagination in search of the missing geodesic sphere with a new mystery involved: the Mystery of Fantasia, a living, corporeal, dream-made spirit that's lived inside of Rachel's body for unknown reasons. While figuring out what Fantasia is all about, they must also fend off and escape the notorious villain, Nebulus' attempts of capturing them and save Eli Finder, Dreamfinder's apparent great-grandnephew, along with countless famous figures from the Earth's past from their imprisonment. Will their imaginations find the sphere and save everyone in time, or will darkness prevail against them for the worst?





	1. Chapter 1

It seems like it’s been days, maybe months since Rachel had fainted after defeating the beast in Eli’s laboratory. She had nearly been consumed into the darkness, but somehow she had escaped. Her mind is swirling in a black and white spiraling flash like she is being drained into a vortex of abysmal cavity. At times, her body seems to be shifting from heavy to lightweight, light to heavy, and so forth. It’s as if Rachel is being softly swayed, floating above, below or beside whatever may come her way as her eyes droop with exhaustion. Her strength has been used up fighting the beast she thought was truly Nebulus. In the state that she is in, she may be on the verge of falling into a senseless deep slumber.

But in this strange scene is an invisible, but palpable beating pulsing softly all around her. They come in waves. They are large like tidal waves, but they don’t seem like the kind of waves that could selfishly drown out a person mercilessly, especially when there is nothing material around that could choke her with. This beating speaks in ba-bumps and thumps. So soft and tender they sound like something that is coming straight from the heart…heartbeats, perhaps. Rachel’s eyes open halfway. She looks to the sky, if it even is a sky to begin with, where she finds what looks like a ceiling pounding and vibrating in a soothing reddish-pink at the center and a much lighter pink growing and shaping the ripples outwards as they penetrate against the baffling black and white atmosphere. Before she knew it, the whole place is filled with a warm pink tone. It suddenly got warmer inside, too. This warmth gently cloaks her like a blanket. The pulses around her beat softer and softer into her ears like music sweetly beating into rhythm.

In the midst of this, a kind voice calls to her. It tenderly tickles her ears as it speaks. The voice seems to be coming from a man…a man whom Rachel knows all too well. His voice sounds pure and mild like a god. As he talks, the warmth in the atmosphere he must be providing keeps getting warmer. Rachel’s body slowly ascends upwards like she is being pulled into Heaven just like she had felt before when Dr. Nigel Channing almost choked her to death. Is she really dead this time? Hardly. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have the senses to touch, feel or hear the voice or the warmth coming about. As Rachel floats up closer to the source of the voice and his warm glow, the pink tones above become overwhelm by a shining bright white light engulfing her as it did before. The voice that is calling to her becomes louder and clearer for Rachel to hear. And soon enough, she has been taken back to her life. Weak, still, but alive.

********************************************************************************************************

As Rachel opens her eyes, she notices that their surroundings have changed. They are no signs of dust or rubble or overgrown vine, but floating along on the Dream Machine in an endless night sky of vast blue sparsely glittered with stars. The stars are faint, the moon is full and bright, and the soft clouds around them darken in a very deep gray illuminating on only one side where the moon shines brightest. There isn’t any surface below the Dream Machine; they are either far above the Earth to see the ground or maybe Dreamfinder must have conjured another portal to another realm with his imagination. Some of the clouds flowing through the Dream Machine are blanketing them both. 

Then Rachel notices that something is holding her, something warm and gentle. It must be the main source of the warmth she was just feeling in her unconsciousness. She looks up and sees Dreamfinder, blurry in her vision, his head looking down at her with his deep blue eyes. His arms are what’s holding her as she is coddled with her head close to his soft beating heart, wrapped in a blanket like a sleeping child in its toddler years. It appears that Dreamfinder has Rachel sitting on his lap as he is controlling and guiding the Dream Machine through this moonlit starry paradise. She tries to grunt, but she hardly makes a sound. She tries to move her arms a little, but her muscles are too weak. She wonders if the monster at the pavilion had done her bad enough to lose at least a quarter of her energy, maybe even half. Rachel tries to speak again with more effort. This time, she tries to have her eyes wide enough to see her dear friend.

“Dream…” Rachel quietly mutters, “Dreamfinder?”

“Shhh…shhh…it’s alright, Rachel. I’m here.” the Dreamfinder coos in a calm loving tone. “I’m right here.”

“Dreamfinder…where…where are we? Where am I? What’s happened?”

“Don’t you worry, my friend. We’re safely away from the pavilion and on our way again.”

“Am I…am I still dreaming? Am I alive still? Or are we all dead?”

“No, no, we’re not dead. This is no dream. And you’ve always been alive throughout our journeys. Though, by the look on your face and in your condition, I’d say you’re wishing that what we faced back there was all just a nightmare, am I right?”

“Don’t say nightmare!” Rachel raises her tone, hardly much of an impact to speak in a higher pitch.

“Oops! Sorry.” Dreamfinder blushes with guilt. “Poor choice of words. Are you okay?”

“Well…I’m alive. That’s a plus. I’m just…I don’t know. I feel so weak. The last thing I remember was being pulled into the Bewilderness by that creature. I thought…I thought I was going to die or spend eternity in there. And then…I saw something bright and then I blacked out. All numb and tired and weak.”

“Oh, Rachel!”

“How long have I been out?”

“About a day and a half. I haven’t opened another portal to the next world in case you would have either not survived or needed a lot more proper care.”

“You didn’t even think of taking me to the hospital?”

“I don’t have any insurance or the money to pay for it.”

“I’m insured.”

“Oh. Well, I guess I’ll keep that in mind next time. Sorry. But at least you’re alive and well, mostly. That’s a good thing, right?”

“Yeah, I suppose. Where are Figment and— Algar!” Rachel gasps. “Is he…?”

“He’s perfectly fine.” said Dreamfinder with a smile. “He’s sleeping in your room on your bed with Figment watching him.”

“Good. So where are we exactly?”

“I’m not sure really. I may have flown us up a little too high to see any land below us. But…it is gorgeous out up here with the moon gleaming down and the stars twinkling. It makes me want reach out, grab a handful of those stars and string them into a necklace for you—uh, I mean!” Dreamfinder then stutters. “I-I-I-I love the one I made you when we first met! I just thought…I thought that…you deserve it. After all, you did push me out of the way and take my place when that nightmare caught you and dragged you in. I’d consider it a token of my thanks.”

“I figured I owed you one. You saved me first back at the desert with the Abiteth…among other occasions. I guess we’ll call it even, huh? Which leads me to asks this: why is it that in every world we come across, one of us gets hurt and almost dies?”

“I suppose that everyone who has tried to hurt us just doesn’t understand us entirely; what we do, where we came from, what our intentions are. We’re practically aliens to them like they would likely be for us.”

“You know, the more worlds we enter the more I ask myself why none of our worlds have ever crossed paths and become united. I mean, scientists and artists and geeks of all kinds, they dream and study and assume whether or not these kinds of people exist or not. And yet, you and I and Figment as well, we’re the only people who has actually seen these people for ourselves. We’re like Doctor Who with a giant dirigible instead of blue telephone booth. I mean…why?”

“I don’t know.” said Dreamfinder with a shrug. “I just don’t know. But it’s amazing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is.” said Rachel. “You and Figment…you’re so lucky!”

“We are?”

“Yeah. Before you found me, you two got to see so many different places…so many worlds beyond anything anyone can imagine. Kids like I had been a long time ago, heck, kids even today, we dream of places to inhabit going on adventures that would leave us waking up victorious or be plummeted into the abyss of darkness like I have. It’s a wonder how you and Figment seem to beat all of these odds without a scratch. I just barely make it out of every scenario I’ve encountered with you.”

“I don’t know. I’ve had some pretty nasty scratches myself along the way. I’ve been where you were once. When Figment and I first came back to Earth over a hundred years later, I was bewildered by all of the strange fantastic creations and technologies you all hold today. And all of that fear that I have been building inside of me had literally come to life with the sparks to bring it about from my invention and it consumed me. I became possessed by my own fears, my deepest darkest dreams were on the verge of becoming real.”

“What made you decide against it in the end?” Rachel asks.

“I realized how far and how incredible the world has become with these advancements I’m sure you may have grown with." Dreamfinder says as he lets out another warm smile, "And much of this, especially at the Academy Scientifica-Lucidus, both Figment and I have mostly been responsible for making this all happen. Hence the golden statue they built in college foyer in our memory. But more importantly I realized how much more I am needed, how Figment and I are needed, today to sail across the world and other worlds and continue to dream and inspire others to do the same. The whole reason we dream is so we can make them come true and build a better world to live in. That’s why I’m the Dreamfinder. I use my dreams to help others achieve them…including you.”

“Thanks.”

“You don’t seem so excited about it.”

“Oh no! Believe me, I am! I’m very happy that you can do that! I can’t really think of a better thing to do in my life than that. Which is kind of my point: I couldn’t. I was forbidden to be me around my family for whatever reason. I couldn’t show my true colors because they never gave me the chance to discover them for myself. Heck, the least I can do is draw pictures, write stories, and clean trash bins and toilets at an amusement park, which isn’t to say I didn’t love working there, you know. When I found Uncle Eli back in Florida, he promised me an apprenticeship to learn so much more about how great and how very influential imagination is. And in the process, he’s treated me like a real father. I actually almost called him that once! And in a way, I wish I had. The way he’s treated me and how much he had taught me those two weeks. As much as I had loved being there and remembering the good times that happened that time, that’s just as much pain and despair I have always felt when Nebulus came and took everything away from me! And from then on, in order to protect myself, I had to stay quiet. I couldn’t imagine anything anymore because I was so afraid to let this happen again and be caught. Everything I’ve done, every gesture and emotion I had treated you and Figment and everyone else in my life… You don’t know what it’s like, Dreamfinder, to live your life in fear to protect yourself and all the people you love and care about. To have your childhood ripped apart when you were promised grander things, but couldn’t get it under such circumstance. You don’t know what it’s like to live all alone with your thoughts in the thunderclouds. You don’t know what it’s like…to leave everything you had once loved behind to either give up or pursue something bigger than yourself; my family…my friends, as few as they are…everything. Everything…”

“…”

“…”

“…You think I don’t know that?” Dreamfinder calmly asks.

“Huh?” she grunts.

“You think I don’t know what it’s like to be leave what I had behind? Believe me, I know. When we saved London in 1910, me and Figment, I did what I had to do to save them with the my imagination and the Mesmonic Converter. We defeated the enemy, but I…I never realized the sacrifices I would make to do it. In saving London, I left everything I once knew behind: my home, my job…my family. My mother and my brothers and sisters…I miss them all. I miss them all so, so much! I miss the days in the country playing in our farm when we were kids. I miss my father’s stories and my mother’s lullabies. I remember when my father had been gone and we had to move in with family in London until we were able to provide for ourselves, which wasn’t much, but we made it work. I miss coming home to my family where we’d sit together for dinner, rationing what we could while trying to keep each other positive. You’d be amazed at the stories we’d tell each other. I miss the holidays we’d spend together, especially at Christmas. The year I joined the team at the academy, I used my first paycheck to buy each of my family whatever they had always wanted. I bought my mother a nice coat to help her keep warm since we didn’t have enough to pay to keep our house warm. I bought toys for my younger brothers, a model boat and sailor’s cap for my eldest younger brother since he’s always wanted to sail the world. And I bought my sisters the dresses they had always stared at sitting in the windows of the dress shop. It was the happiest Christmas we had. I.…until I had learned of the legacy Figment and I had made when we arrived in Florida a hundred years later, it never came to mind how much I would lose or how I could get us back home again. I guess I got all too excited with finally achieving my dreams for the best that I couldn’t see what worse it brought with it. From then on, it has always been Figment and me together being the only family we had for each other.”

“What about Capri and Spark?”

“Ah yes, true! They are family as well! Yes, I consider them most likely.”

“And Eli?”

“Eli? Hmm…I suppose. He is my grandnephew, after all. It would be considered rude to leave him out. I’d love to meet him.”

“Well, you’ve got me to blame for that.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Rachel. You didn’t know the consequences it would bring.”

“That’s exactly why it’s my fault! I should have known not to disobey Uncle Eli and I should have known better not to open the door. Now Eli’s gone, Nebulus is still on the loose somewhere, and you and Figment could have faced the same fate as Eli’s because of me. I shouldn’t have gotten your attention, I shouldn’t have gone along with you, I…I shouldn’t have gotten you involved in all of this. I am so sorry, Dreamfinder.”

The defeated sigh breathing out of Rachel’s breath exhales onto Dreamfinder’s shirt and bowtie as she buries her face towards his chest. The guilt overwhelming her has pressured her eyes from crying, but her tears are still forming only to be sponged onto Dreamfinder’s jacket. Her shoulders stiffen and her eyes are closed tight. The Dreamfinder can hardly bear to see his admired one in such stress and sadness. She has been through a lot. A tainted childhood, a traumatizing memory, a tormenting war against all of the hauntings in her mind just so she could live a normal life as best as possible. She is a warrior, Dreamfinder thought, a dark horse trudging in a world of doubt, fear and darkness…and her battle with that monster of Nebulus proves it. He firmly wraps his left arm tighter around Rachel’s back enough to allow his hand the freedom to stroke and pet her head. He takes off the white glove of that hand to bless her the compassion that tingles through skin at the tip of his fingers. It calms her down. The tears stopped falling, but the gloominess in Rachel’s eyes continues. At least she feels safe. Her ears are still alert, but everything else in her remains relaxed. Dreamfinder looks down at her, thinking of all the incredible things she has down in spite of her past. He looks to the stars, staring at them for a while. Then he closes his eyes, he sighs, and discloses an unexpected word.

“Blair.”

“What?” said Rachel, as she lifts her head up.

“My real name is Blarion Mercurial, or ‘Blair’ for short. I only got the name ‘Dreamfinder’ when I realized my full potential as, well…the Dreamfinder.”

“…”

“You had to know sooner or later.”

“Blair…that’s…that’s a nice name. I like it.”

“I’m glad.”

“Oh! I’m sorry!” Rachel exclaims. “I’ve probably been on your lap for too long. I should probably—”

“Oh no! It’s alright, Rachel!” said Dreamfinder, now referred to as ‘Blair.’ “It’s okay. I didn’t have you on my lap for long, but if you’d like I can—”

“I can…I can handle it—whoa!” Rachel shouts as she trips down to her weak knees.

“Easy, Rachel! You’re still too weak to stand. Let me help you back to your room.”

“Alright, fine.”

Blair wraps Rachel’s right arm over his shoulder while he supports the rest of her body with his other arm. He has her leaning against his side as Rachel’s legs struggle to stand and walk with the lack of strength they still have. With each small step, they slowly walk towards the right side of the Dream Machine off of the pilot’s platform where the controls are with the Moon’s light gleaming on their backs. The footsteps Rachel make sounds like a thump and drag on the tip on the knuckles of her toes. She had only just realized that she was barefoot, which explains why her feet have been pretty cold for a while. 

But just as they are about to make the rest of the way to Rachel’s room in the cabin, Blair stops. He releases Rachel’s arm and wraps both of his around her torso tenderly. Rachel arms hang loosely towards the deck. She straightens up to her feet as Blair raises her with her back against his chest.

“Rachel?” Blair whispers. 

Rachel slowly turns around and finds the Dreamfinder’s eyes glistening with a crystal gloss across his blue eyes reflecting from the moonlight that bounces off the chrome pipes and valves that fluidly streams the puffs of dream power within that powers this zeppelin. Her brown eyes glitter back at this realization, making Dreamfinder’s eyes grow bigger and bigger enough to adore her even more. Her hair tied in a ponytail with three bands flows with the gentles winds brushing through the skin of her cheeks. 

“I…I’ve been very angry with you a lot, mostly because I never realized what you were trying to do, what your intentions were, and what you’ve been up against. From the very, very deepest bottom of my heart, I am so sorry!”

“It’s okay, Dreamfinder.” said Rachel. “I would have felt the same as you have. Heck, I would have thought I was nuts!”

“Please, let me finish. In my anger, I have always been threatening you that I would take you back home to your family if you didn’t behave. You know how I can’t stand people being so rudely brash towards me and others and how I would never tolerate it going around where I’m at.”

“Then you’d REALLY love to meet my father.” 

“But deep down, I never wanted—no, I don’t want to. I won’t! I want us to just…let’s just…forget about everything that’s happened between us during these circumstances. I want to start anew. Start fresh. Rachel…”

“Yes?”

“I know I said that if you’d ever want to go back home anytime on your own choice, I’d bring you back. I also know that if I had, whatever the reasons may be, you’d either be more humiliated dealing with your father again or…worse. In other words, you feel like you’d have no place else to go if I brought you back.”

“Your point being?”

“The reason Figment and I wanted to bring another companion along for another journey through imagination was to teach them and give a more realistic, more broad and most spectacular view of what imagination is. It was only supposed to be a temporary thing, but if you want…you…you can stay with us. And Figment and I would be very glad to have you with us.”

“Really?” Rachel softly gasps. “I…I can stay.”

“For as long as you want. ” Blair replies with a smile. “I would love it if you decide to stay. We’ll find the geodesic sphere and then we’ll find a way to save Eli from Nebulus.”

“What? You mean you still want go out of your way to save him?”

“Like I said, he’s family. I’ve left my family behind once and I’m not going to let that happen again. Besides, you’ve known him longer than I have and I think it would do you a lot more good to have a little reunion in order.”

“But Nebulus has him where no one can find—”

“Forget what Nebulus said! When someone is missing, that person isn’t here. And when that person isn’t here, he’s someplace else. Therefore, if Eli isn’t in the Imagination Pavilion in Florida, or anywhere on Earth for that matter, then he must be in some other plane of existence. Simplicity itself, there is still a chance that Eli is still alive somewhere, but in captivity. All we have to do is find him. And I think this can help us.”

Dreamfinder pulls out a small brown book from behind the chair at the front of the Dream Machine, dusted and torn. He hands it to Rachel with the assurance of her reaction. Her eyes grow big at the sight, but this time it is a shock more on the side of her excitement.

“Uncle Eli’s journal!” Rachel exclaims. “How did you…?”

“You dropped it back at the pavilion when Nebulus showed up.” said Dreamfinder with a smirk.

“And the Mesmonic Converter?”

“Safely packed away in my room in case we need it. I figured that if we are to find Eli, we might as well have a couple clues to look up and help us.”

“Blair…”

“So what do you say, Rachel? Will you stay with me?”

It’s a question that will determine Rachel’s fate once and for all. Will Rachel return home to her family and give everything up? Or will she finally step up and take a chance to find Eli and the geodesic sphere with her friends at her side? She looks down at the book. The handwriting inside is making her feel that Uncle Eli is trying to her call her to him in her head. He may be in their presence like some kind of ghost, supposed something terrible has happened to him. Then Rachel looks back up to Dreamfinder smiling kindly at her. She can tell in his eyes how much he really wants her to be here. And this time, he really intends not to put her down to the ground anymore, not that it was ever his intention to do that in the beginning. Her eyes become teary again. She sniffs the cold air inside. Her mouth quivers and her throat stiffens. Rachel suddenly plants herself around Dreamfinder. She hugs him tight, crying at his chest as Dreamfinder benevolently returns the hug back. 

“Dreamfinder…oh Dreamfinder!” she cries.

“Shh…there, there, my dear.” he whispers softly. “It’s okay. It’s alight.”

“Blair…”

“I’ll never leave you. I’ll never leave you if won’t leave me. I’ll take care of you, forever. Or for as long as you want me to.”

“Blair…”

“We’re going to find Eli. And we’re going to do it our way. Okay?”

“…Okay.” she mutters with a smile.

“Okay!” Dreamfinder smiles back, cupping her cheeks in his hands. “I’m so happy to hear that. Welcome back.”

“Thanks.” Rachel says with a blush..

“Come on, let’s get you to your room. Do you still any help?”

“No. No, I’m fine now. Tired, still, but fine enough to walk. You coming back inside?”

“In a little while. I’m going to stay out here and pilot the Dream Machine for a bit in case of any airplanes coming by until I can find a spot to land for the night. They’re a lot bigger than how I remember them when they started making those.”

“Finally! Something I know that actually existed in your time.”

“I guess so!” Dreamfinder laughs. Then he looks deep into her eyes and speaks to her in a sweet manner. “Goodnight, Rachel.”

“Goodnight.” said Rachel. “Um…hey.”

“Yes?”

“For the record, I…I love the name ‘Dreamfinder,’ really, but I actually like ‘Blair Mercurial’ a little better.”

“If you like it so much, then you can call me by my real name anytime you want.”

“Cool. Goodnight, Blair.”

Rachel, still with slightly weak knees, slowly walks back towards the cabin. As she approaches the door, she takes a glance back at her dear friend. Blair, the Dreamfinder, makes himself comfortable again as he sits back down on his chair and pilots the Dream Machine alone. His kind face gleaming in soft tones of the moonshining light in a vast nightshade sky of dark blue with his eyes glittering like sapphires and his posture unable to be deciphered of whether he is stiffen or relaxed. His ginger hair gently floats with the faint breeze of clouds in the sky high above the Earth. And up until now, Rachel had not realized that the Dreamfinder’s height, him being taller than her by a few feet, has made her feel safe. She smiles tenderly at him as she slips back inside the calm away from the cold.

Coming up to her as she enters is Figment, dressed in blue soft pajamas with rocket ships on them and a nightcap, fluttering through the halls with an empty glass cup in his hands. His one arm hangs loosely towards the ground with the other arm is mindlessly locked holding the cup up. His big yellow eyes are half open in his drowsiness, but they start to grow bigger at the sight of Rachel arriving in front of her since after the incident in the Imagination Pavilion.

“Oh! Hello, Figment.” Rachel says quietly.

“Rachel!” exclaimed Figment, rubbing his eyes. “You’re okay!”

“I am now. I was just about to go back to bed. What are you still doing up?”

“I got thirsty. I’m getting a glass of water from the kitchen.”

“Oh, okay.” As Figment starts floating away with all the strength his little wings can carry him, Rachel stops him for a moment and says, “Hey, Figment.”

“Yes?” Figment replies with his head tilted back behind him to Rachel’s view.

“I never got chance to say ‘thanks.’ To you, specifically. Not just for helping me at the pavilion, but for all the other times we’ve been in danger. Also, just for being you.”

“Hey, it’s no problem, Rachel! I’m always happy to help in any way.”

“Yeah, I know. But really, thank you…for all the times you’ve made me smile and laugh and always encouraged me to think above the impossible. Thanks for not giving up on me, Figment.”

“My pleasure, Rachel. And I’m sorry for opening the door back there. I know the sign said not to open it, but I never realized the dangers that would come out.”

“It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean any harm. And I know how heavy your curiosity can be. Hence having a wild imagination, I suppose. And besides, we’ve somehow managed to defeat it and seal it away after so many years of it haunting me. So that’s definitely worth something, huh?”

“I guess so.”

“Goodnight, Figment.” Rachel said softly. She leans over and kisses Figment on the cheek, giggling at the sight of her dragon friend blushing a hot pink on both sides of his little purple face. “Sweet dreams.”

“Aw…gosh!” Figment squirms with a delightful embarrassment. “Goodnight, Rachel.”

Figment makes his way towards the kitchen as he intended to, while Rachel continues forth to her bedroom. She opens the door with a candlelight dimly flickering on the table at her bedside and giving the bedroom a warming glow. Much to Rachel having her heart melt at this sight, she finds Algar curled up like a ball as he sleeps in the middle of the mattress. The gryphon grunts and whimpers and yawns as he sleeps, dreaming up whatever dreams a creature like him may have. Rachel kneels down by her bed where Algar is closest. She pets him and kisses his forehead. The gryphon smiles as Rachel's warm kiss is softly pressed onto him. His blurry green eyes peek open by a quarter as he spots Rachel sitting by him. He then nudges his head against Rachel, rubbing his face on hers like she’s his mother gryphon, which in a sense considering that Rachel created him with the Mesmonic Converter, she is. Rachel wraps her arms around Algar’s body, she picks him up, and then she cradles him gingerly like a baby, rocking him calmly into a deeper slumber.

“Sweet dreams, my little Algar.” Rachel said sweetly, as she presses another soft kiss on his forehead. The gryphon yawns and closes his eyes back down to sleep with his eagle head gently leaning on her chest.

“He’s such a beautiful gryphon.”

Rachel’s eyes light up as she hears Yuna speak, appearing out of nowhere at her side. They each exchange an auspicious smile to each other. Rachel slowly sits down at the edge of her bed with Yuna joining her at her side to watch the little newborn imaginary creature cooing softly as it now sleeps on Rachel’s lap like a puppy.

“He sure is.” said Rachel quietly so she wouldn’t wake Algar up. “He’s everything I dreamed he would be. I always wanted to have my own dog and name him ‘Algar,’ but you know how my dad is. So I decided to make this little guy back at the Imagination Pavilion with Uncle Eli and give him that name. And now, here he is…in my arms…living and breathing.”

“And sleeping.” Yuna added.

“Yes. He’s sleeping indeed. Hey Yuna, I want to thank you again for saving me back there, too. I’d yell at you for risking my life to do what you did, but I should know by now how crazy of things you’ll do for our sakes. Especially mine.”

“I appreciate it, Rachel. Really, I do.”

“Hey, Yuna. You never told me…what is the Tomorrow’s Child? Really?”

“What?”

“You’ve mentioned something about it only once when we first met, but you’ve never explained it in full detail to me, let alone ever talking about it at all on account that we’ve been so distracted in trying to save each other’s throats. And then this time, the beast whom I thought was Nebulus said something about Dreamfinder being the Tomorrow’s Child when it was you who called me that. Why?”

“I had hoped I wouldn’t have had to explain much, seeing as how much danger I’d be putting you in if I say anything. But I suppose I have no choice anymore, do I?”

“So, what is it?”

“The Tomorrow’s Child is what my people had been prophesizing, believing that one day he or she would rise from the depths of worlds unknown to defeat the one who selfishly claims the Intelligent Ones; those being the individuals who have given their lives and knowledge pursuing their dreams in creating their worlds into a wonderful place. Incredibly, much of these individuals hail from this Earth, the world you have lived in all your life. Famous figures of your kind like Alexander the Great, Thomas Jefferson, Plato, even the beings you have most admired like Abraham Lincoln and Walter Elias Disney are among the many. Each of their past experiences contributes to their knowledge and all of the knowledge they have collected throughout their lives have helped my people thrive in creating what is considered a utopia of the known universe with your world being the youngest, but most reliable source of all. For millions of years, we have used all of this knowledge to build our cities and to help provide to many other worlds with kindness, ingenuity and inspiration. But when my father took over as supreme leader, he began to abuse the power of the Intelligent Ones for his own selfish gain, terrorizing many worlds not of our own, endlessly enslaving the minds of the famous that have been deceased only if their knowledge is proven useful to increase his power. His ultimate aim has been to gather knowledge from many intelligent people from other worlds enough to rupture the barrier we had built to protect the Earth, your Earth, within. Unfortunately, the barrier was too weak to stand against my father’s power. The barrier is broken, my people have lost hope, and as we speak my father is consuming all of the information and intelligence your people have gathered over the course of human history. There was nothing, there is nothing we can do to stop him. Not alone, at least.”

“But what about Runa, your younger sister at the Academy Scientifica-Lucidus?” Rachel suggested. “You told me that Runa is supposed to be the one to overthrow your father’s reign.”

“That is only in part of what is planned.” said Yuna. “Unfortunately, from what I was able to tell when I first met her here on Earth, she knows nothing, in fact very little, of what she is capable of for the purpose of our people. Therefore, she has not yet realized the power she has to fight against him. I fear that even if she does know of it, I doubt that her power alone will be enough to overthrow my father. But there is another way to defeat him.”

“The Tomorrow’s Child.”

“Exactly. It has been said that the most prodigious of all the Intelligent Ones would one day come before my father and rid us all of his ever-growing terror in his reign. Someone whose intelligence exceeds all as well as his bravery and courage, his empathy, his conviction, and his vast vision can outdo everything my father stands for. Everything the Tomorrow’s Child can do can affect even the most brilliant of your kind and restore everything my father has demolished. But there is a risk.”

“Like?”

“The power of the Tomorrow’s Child is far greater than any of the minds and knowledge of the Intelligent Ones combined, which to my father is perhaps the greatest weapon he can use to destroy everything we know of and love. If my father catches the Tomorrow’s Child and takes away his mind, his heart, his soul and his beliefs, all of which are very vital to the Tomorrow’s Child’s being, he will use that power to make himself the most supreme mind of all beings and will wipe away all forms of existence. And when he does, he will rebuild everything in his own image and command all who happen to survive to do his bidding or be mercilessly beaten to their death.”

“In other words…no more…anything!” Rachel guesses. “It’d be the end of the world as we know it, only ten times worse! Maybe infinite!”

“Exactly.”

“But what’s that got to do with Dreamfinder? Unless…your father thinks it’s him! But why him?”

“Dreamfinder is the only one on Earth who was able to use the best of his abilities in both science and magic to create portals leading to other dimensions as well as creating and making things appear with his own imagination. With that kind of knowledge in my father’s possession, he can use Dreamfinder’s power to jump through every portal to any world he wants to go and lay waste upon them all. And in the end, so long as he’s in my father’s possession, your Dreamfinder would forever waste away in his prison until every fiber in his being gives out and turns to dust.”

“No!” Rachel shouts to her horror. “Dreamfinder’s too good for that! I won’t let that happen to him! But wait a minute. You said your father thinks it’s Dreamfinder who is the Tomorrow’s Child, but it was you who called me the Tomorrow’s Child. I mean, you don’t really think it’s me do you? I can’t possibly be the Tomorrow’s Child…can I?”

“You are.” said Yuna with an assuring smile. “And a more beautiful Tomorrow’s Child the universe has ever seen." "

"What?" Rachel softly gasps to her great surprise.

"We’ve been watching you and protecting you all your life, preventing your existence to be known by my father from afar. And let me just say, you are indeed one of a kind and unlike anything we have ever seen.”

“Whoa-whoa-whoa! Who’s this we? And what makes you think I’m the one who can save them.”

“This we are the many powerful guardians, gods, figures and leaders of other namely and unnamed worlds sworn to protect all of the innocent beings in existence and use their abilities for the greater good. Much like Álvaro, the Defender of All in Iyrilia. You may have woken him up from his age-long slumber with whatever you had, but I was the one who had enlisted him to join the fight in protecting you from my father’s grasp. That’s plainly one of the reasons why he has wanted you to stay with him.”

“What do you think I am? God?”

“We believe you are to be a Savior for all of our known existences, including your own. You may think of yourself as another guardian, a queen, a warrior, maybe even a goddess like you were believed to be back in Fillidore.”

“You’ve watched me from that time, too?”

“I’ve watched you all the time. I’ve watched over you since even before you were born. I still have to. It’s my duty to watch you and keep guard of you from harm and away from my father’s hand.”

“Who is your father?” Rachel cries.

“That, I should spare you the knowledge of.” said Yuna with concern. “At least for tonight. It may likely haunt your mind even more if I tell you presently. But right now, I must ask of you to get some more rest. I promise I will explain the rest of what I must say tomorrow morning when we are alone again.”

“Can’t you show yourself to Figment and Dreamfinder now? I hate to keep this from them.”

“I’m afraid not. If I tell them now as well, it will only increase the danger that I may be putting you in, not that I have been intending to, but quite the opposite if you understand.’

“I guess.”

“There is nothing to fear for now, my child. I advise that you let only dreams of great sweetness to sweep away your mind and bring you into blissfulness. Rest now.”

“You’ve been waiting to say that to me for a while, haven’t you?”

“Since I’ve first known you, which has actually been a really long time. A lot longer than you’d think. Now sleep, Rachel. I look forward to explain everything else I have to say in the morning. Oh, and Rachel?”

“Yes?”

“You needn’t have to worry about writing down everything in your journal of your adventures by hand anymore. I’ve cast a spell on your pen to chronicle everything that happens in your book the way you envision the words to come out, that way you won’t have to stress in writing everything in and waste your time. All you can do now is continue taking photos of what you see and the people you meet now.”

“Thanks, Yuna.” said Rachel with a smile. “That’s actually really helpful.”

“Anything for you, Rachel. Always. Goodnight.”

In an instant, Yuna transforms herself into her sprite form and enters back into Rachel’s necklace, faintly glimmering as she settles herself back inside. All of this information being mixed with her fear of losing Dreamfinder again after he had just promised that he would never leave her again has got Rachel’s head spinning. You’d think her mind would be a lot more scrambled than egg whites made fluffy, which might as well be. Still, Rachel decides to put this entire thing aside on account that she is still tired from fighting that beast at the pavilion a few days ago. She carefully lowers Algar, placing him at her right side of the bed without waking him up. She slowly closes her eyes, lays beside him and smiles, happy to see that her own imaginary friend is alive and that she finally feels safe being with the friends who has been with her through thick and thin. Especially Dreamfinder.

Outside Rachel’s bedroom door is Figment, standing alone with his body stiff and his eyes wide with fear and shock. It turns out he has actually seen Yuna in person talking to Rachel! He had dropped his glass of water, but the ground cover it touched is carpeted, so it didn’t make much of a noticeable noise while Rachel and Yuna were talking. All this time that Rachel had been mentioning Yuna to him and Dreamfinder, he finally realizes that Rachel was actually telling the truth. He is tempted to tell Dreamfinder everything what Yuna had said, but hearing that there is still more to learn about has declined him the opportunity to say anything for now. Figment quietly picks up his glass, refills it with water and returns to his and Dreamfinder’s bedroom into his own little bed, bewildered by the unexpected and shocking presence of Rachel’s supposed guardian.


	2. Chapter 2

At last, the sun is rising far across the distance of the heavens. The smooth gray clouds have shifted into flocks of white fluffy clouds and the dark tones of the night sky have turned from a dark navy blue to a very bright baby blue. The sun fills the nighttime sky with sunshine, casting a large dark shadow of the Dream Machine onto the clouds below them. There is no telling whether the clouds below this airship are the actual ground surface of the Earth of if it is floating very high above the planet.

Inside the cabin, the smell of coffee is overflowing from the kitchen, to which Figment has willingly made for Dreamfinder. The young dragon sits at the table, staring at the tabletop with his crocodile snout pointing straight down at his breakfast as well as his big yellow eyes darting below him. The sight of Yuna has had just seen last night have got him thinking of all of the things Rachel had previously said of Yuna’s presence and what she had said to her. He fidgets his fingers while his tail twitches. If seeing Yuna had not been the cause of Figment’s skittish behavior, it would probably that he may have made a little too much coffee. There is just no telling when he might see Yuna again wandering around the Dream Machine again. Even more nervously, there is no telling when he would likely see Rachel roaming around the Dream Machine with Yuna appearing beside her and following her wherever she goes. Additionally, with everything Yuna had mentioned about Dreamfinder and the Tomorrow’s Child last night, it had only made Figment feel even more agitated than before. The only problem is that this information is only part of what Yuna had to say, so Figment reluctantly decides to wait a little longer to get all of the rest of Yuna’s information he can get before he tells Dreamfinder.

Rachel, in a slump from last night, slowly walks into the kitchen with a blanket wrapped around her. And in her arms is Algar, still droopy-eyed from his first ever sleep being alive. His head nudges over upon Rachel’s chest, whimpering happily as he manages to make himself comfortable. At the table where Figment is, she fills herself a tall glass of water for herself and sips the glass. Her morning thirst is quenched and entertains herself by rubbing Algar’s furry stomach. She glances over to Figment, whose eyes are a tad wider than before. She notices the dragon’s eyes dilating with ever drop of sweat he manages to break and fall from his head.

“Are you okay, Figment?” Rachel asks.

“Huh?” said Figment with a small grunt in his shock.

“You look like you’re freaking out a little. Are you having too much coffee?”

“Uh…no. No, Rachel. I’m fine. I just had a…nightmare. And I might have drank a little too much coffee, too. Wait, I just said I wasn’t, didn’t I?”

“Aren’t you a little young to be drinking coffee, Figment? In fact, how the heck old are you anyway?”

“I’m likely to be about a hundred years old like Dreamfinder is now, but our journey into imagination to save London from a robot army has us still staying young.”

“…Right. I think you should refrain from the coffee for a bit. And what’s that you’re eating?”

“It’s a BLT.” said Figment.

“A bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich?” Rachel replied.

“Nope! My favorite: buttercups and lilacs on toast.”

“…I will never understand your diet.”

“Bark!” Algar exclaims abruptly, panting to his enjoyment of Rachel rubbing him.

“Hey! So what is Algar like?” Figment asks excitedly. “What’s he supposed to be?”

“Well, shape-wise, Algar here is part lion on his backside, part eagle on the front, and part dog on the inside.”

“Dog?”

“Bark bark-bark bark!” Algar barks playfully and pants with great haste, proving his personality true to Figment.

“His reactions are much like a dog,” said Rachel, “but he does have a real high IQ in human intelligence.” She turns to Algar and says, “Algar, show Figment what else you can do.”

“Ro’ray!” said Algar in attempts to speak human dialect.

Algar leaps off of Rachel’s lap and flies out of the kitchen in a fast pace. Within seconds, he returns to the kitchen with a large blackboard and a box of chalk in his talons. He takes one of the chalk pieces and starts scribbling away, making a puff of chalky smoke fill a quarter of the room. When the smoke cleared, the board is filled with many things that are likely to be mathematical, most of which, perhaps ALL of it, both Rachel and Figment are completely unaware of except that it looks like a y- and x-axis with a line sloping upwards.

“Ra-raaaaaa!” sang Algar, in translation to “Ta-daaaaaa!?”

“I have no frickin’ clue what kind of math this is.” said Rachel with a blank, wide-eyed face in her astonishment. “Figment?”

“Nope. Not me.” said Figment. “It’s all Greek to me and I don’t even know Greek.”

“It’s Jensen’s Inequality.” said a fourth voice out of nowhere.

Dreamfinder walks in from behind Figment and Rachel. He has the journal that belonged to Eli Finder, his grandnephew, tucked safe in his left arm. Seeing what Algar has written on the chalkboard, Dreamfinder is impressed. This may be a smart gryphon after all.

“That pretty much sums it up, Algar,” said Dreamfinder, “...except you’ve misplaced that line on the wrong point.” As Dreamfinder watches Algar erase that line and draws a new line on the right point, Dreamfinder smiles and says, “Not bad! Have you considered working for Johan Jensen?”

“Who?” Algar squeaks, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t think he knows who that is, Dreamfinder.” said Figment. “Then again, neither do I.”

“Good morning, Blair.” Rachel said kindly.

“Good morning, Rachel.” said Dreamfinder in return, as he sits down at the table pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Did you sleep well?”

“It was alright, thanks. You look a little beaten yourself.”

“I’ve stayed up all night reading through Eli’s journal and found some interesting things in it. It seems that neither the Academy Scientifica-Lucidus nor us are the only people looking for the geodesic sphere for the truth.”

“Uncle Eli?”

“This happened not too long after this research had started. About three years after, I’d say. It says that both Eli and Dr. Channing have noticed an increasing overflow of dream power throughout the years they have had in their study. And more and more of that dream power has been brewing up to the masses when both the Epcot Park and the Imagination Pavilion reopened to the public everyday. They traced down the source and found that only a little bit of that mass was seeping out of the Spaceship Earth attraction within the park, but later found a much bigger source in the geodesic sphere when it showed up at the Academy Scientifica-Lucidus about thirty years ago. Eli had been made the chief director and Dr. Channing vice chief of the investigation. While some of the other ‘Dreamfinder Cast Members’ at Epcot took over for Eli in the acting, he and Nigel had only been investigating the sphere for about half a year. They learned a lot of information about the sphere they couldn’t disclose, but I believe only Eli was able to see to real truth of it all. In his journal, he wrote how he’s been noticing a lot, and I mean a LOT, of ties between the geodesic sphere, the possible history behind it, and how all of our imaginations affects it. And when I say history, I believe he means the history of every famous individual that has influenced everything leading to our existence and the modern efficiencies they bring, like Galileo and his theory of the Sun and the planets, Charlie Chaplin and his comical acts, and so forth. Each well-known person contributes to the ideals of all the future innovators of the world, making the cycle and traditions go on and on and on. Some of them even had their own secret or unheard creations that no one has ever seen before since they were never made public. Eli’s even made some illustrations of the different creatures, figures and realms he had seen that had been appearing to him as he kept reentering all of the doors within the Imagination Pavilion. The more this kept on happening, the more influenced he became into becoming, as I may put it, a 'Modern Dreamfinder' of the twentieth to twenty-first centuries.”

“You mean all of the rooms in the pavilion,” Rachel supposes, “the Art Department, the Literature Room, the Garden, the Dramatic Arts Department, they’re all just remnants and manifestations of what Uncle Eli has been seeing. And each one of them becomes more and more influenced by all of the past celebrities who have made a difference to us, the world and our society, right?”

“Exactly.” said Dreamfinder. “And all of that dream power that’s been coming from the geodesic sphere has somehow found its way to other locations in Florida. A small bit of it was able to inhabit the Academy Scientifica-Lucidus without anyone noticing it, while the rest of what he recorded had seeped their way through the Floridian soil all way back to that park of Walt Disney’s, spreading throughout the entire pavilion like an epidemic, only in this case, if it were not strictly enforced on with oppression, the dream power would not cause harm but help and grant whatever assistance its inhabitants ever needed. But that was only the least of what happened. When those manifestations took over most of the Imagination Pavilion, Dr. Channing thought it would be a great opportunity to test their effects on some volunteers; perhaps make a batch of dream power of their own to test them with. Eli thought that would be too risky, especially since they had only just discovered what was happening to their laboratory. They had continued studying and arguing over the best solution of what to do with the dream power for over the next, somewhat, ten years. By then, both Eli and Nigel had just discovered that little spark in the pavilion that one night on…when was it? Uh…October 20, 1994.”

“Wait.” said Rachel with her eyes perking up as she snatches the book from Dreamfinder. “This was the day I was born! And 7:09 PM? That’s the exact time I was born!”

“What?” Dreamfinder exclaims.

“Wow! Small world, huh?” said Figment with delightful realization. “It’s too bad you weren’t there that time, thought.”

“I…I wouldn’t be too sure about, Figment.”

“What do you mean?”

“This may be a long shot, but if what Rachel says about her birth date is true, and if what Eli has written down in his book is legitimate, then there might be a slight possibility that Rachel may have been involved in Eli’s research a lot sooner than we think.”

“How could I have possibly been there that time?” Rachel asks. “I was just born! It’s not like I could have just woken up, immediately learned how walk, run and sneak around the pavilion on my own then. And besides, this all happened in Orlando, Florida. I was born in Terraceville, California and then moved about ten miles to St. Peter’s Town shortly after that.”

“Ah, but here’s something else we've overlooked.” said Dreamfinder slyly with a raised eyebrow. “Shortly after that little spark appeared before Eli and Nigel, a few more sparks had come in with it and each one of them contributed into helping the both of them with their research. But on that same night, that very first spark of imagination, the biggest of the bunch apparently, was believed to have disappeared. Eli and Nigel searched frantically all over the pavilion for it, but couldn’t find it. The next morning on the Los Angeles Times, suspects had identified a ‘small ball of light’ flying within the skies of Southern California to a local hospital at an incredible speed. It’s possible that you, Rachel, may have crossed paths with that little spark from the very beginning of your life and somehow got you involved in all of this.” 

“You’re kidding. That doesn’t prove anything! It could have been some…some…drone with bright lights flying about or perhaps a streetlight went out, burst out through the glass, and illuminated onto the street near the hospital.”

“Like I said, it’s only a long shot. You’re right, though, there isn’t much proof that this happened. And there still may be a lot more clues that I haven’t yet discovered in the book, but the basis of all this is that when Eli and Nigel first discovered the sparks and the pavilion having its transformation, only Eli was able to see the true effects. Imaginary creatures appeared before him, realms to different worlds unraveled themselves, and the amount of dream power had skyrocketed on their meters over the years. And one of those worlds was the Bewilderness, the world where Rachel had just barely escaped from.”

“But why did the Bewilderness appear if the whole pavilion was being filled with dream power?” Figment asks.

“My guess is that it appears like both light and darkness.” said Dreamfinder. “You can’t have dreams without fears and you can’t have fears without dreams. They balance each other out, overtaking each one or the other. While most of the entire Imagination Pavilion was being powered by dream power, there had to be at least one spot where all of everyone’s fears could be stored, either silently waiting to take over a dream or take refuge from one. Both Eli and Nigel had no choice but to seal the Bewilderness away from anyone’s reach so it wouldn’t hurt anyone or cause any mayhem on their experiments. And speaking of interfering, there’s another thing about Rachel that only Eli had realized.”

“Should I be scared to listen?” Rachel asks with an uneasy tone.

“You could…you could leave the room if you don’t want to hear it. Though I encourage you to stay and listen. I’ve found a few things that are…that are pretty big.”

“Fine.” she sighs. “What is it?”

“You remember when Eli had been spending a lot of time with you as a kid and asked you for an apprenticeship with him?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, there was more than one reason. In fact, it has a lot to do with why Eli had to shut down his research.”

“What?”

“When Eli noticed how you were able to communicate with those little sparks the first time you met, he realized how you two were connected somehow. Whenever you played your games and whenever you’d interact with all of the other dream figures from those different realms in the pavilion, it was all a matter of Eli trying to test you. He wanted to see how you had the ability to communicate with them and he could incorporate it all for him to understand it more efficiently and fluently. I don’t know if he succeeded in that or not. He didn’t write anything more about it in his journal. But as those two weeks went by, the more times you’ve encountered with Eli, the more desperate and excited Eli had become to further understanding what you really are. I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed this on yourself, but whenever Eli would watch you doing your own thing in the pavilion, he saw…he saw some…things happen.”

“Like…” she drawls.

“Well, at times when you’d be playing with these creatures, playing games, or when Eli would tuck you back into bed, he saw how your…image changes. In laments terms, you were never always…yourself. You were…bright, white, glowing…flurry…and…and some other things.”

“You sound as if Uncle Eli has seen me as some kind of ghost.” Rachel snickers with amusement.”

“I think that’s exactly what he saw you as.” Dreamfinder said with a stiff, throat-clogging tone and his eyes widening with fear.

“Well you don’t really believe that, do you? You don’t really think that I’m some sort of glowing white spirit lurking the halls, right?” Rachel said playfully, “Wooo-ooo-ooo! Look at me! I’m a ghost! Woo-oo-ooooo! Heh…wait.”

Rachel searches both Dreamfinder and Figment’s expressions as they sit there motionless and stiff. Their eyes tilt to the far corners of their eyelids towards each other. Their arms begin to tremble ever so slightly. She even noticed Algar reacting the same way, too, as Algar swoops away from her and joining both Dreamfinder and Figment in the worriment. Rachel’s eyes scrunch down a little, as if realizing that whatever is happening is making all of her friends start to gang up on her. But why? She doesn’t know, but she believes that they know the answer. Another wave of uneasiness washes over her again and she pursues further in the questioning.

“You…you’re not serious, right?” Rachel asks with concern in her voice. “You don’t think that Eli saw me like, well, that? Do you?”

“Actually,” Figment started, “I don’t think that would have mattered anymore.”

“Guys? What are trying to say?”

“We…” Dreamfinder stutters, “we saw it.”

“Saw what? What exactly did you see?”

“Rachel, when…when you came out of the Bewilderness after escaping the Doubt monster, you weren’t exactly yourself then either. Everything I just described about you being all bright and white and glowing and all of that, we saw it. You were…you were unlike anything we had ever seen before.”

“Yeah! You looked like a ghost of some kind!” exclaimed Figment. “You came back out from that door and then fainted as you were turning back to your normal self!”

“Bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark!” exclaimed Algar. In translation, he says, “And then we kept watching you turn back in that spirit thing and then a human again every once in a while, while you were still asleep!”

“Bologna!” Rachel exclaims. “There’s no possible explanation how I could turn into something like that. Especially all willy-nilly like that and under such circumstance.”

“But it’s true! You really did!” Figment shouted.

“Look, I’ll admit that there are some things about me we've all learned that are a little weird. Like how I can fly with my imagination at will or talk to other people in different languages that NONE of us knows, but me turning into this one spirit creature? That’s a little harder to believe.”

“Well, if you don’t believe us, you may just as well see it for yourself.” said Dreamfinder. “I’m detecting that this sort of phenomenon is what Eli was referring to when he insisted on this being something you’d have to find out for yourself anyway.”

“…Still…whether or not this is true…I was nothing more than his guinea pig, was I?” said Rachel in a sad tone. “Just a test subject to be experimented on?”

“I wouldn’t go so far just yet, Rachel. There must be an explanation to this as to why he needed you. It may not be as bad we think.”

“Suppose it is, I probably would have wasted those two weeks being cheated out a friendship I had depended on so much.”

“Rachel-”

“If…if you’ll excuse me, guys I’m going to go take a shower. And when I come back, I expect for us to just leave that part and the white creature thing out of the conversation and just move on with what we’re dealing with here. C’mon Algar.”

With Algar following her, Rachel leaves the kitchen with her blanket over her shoulder, disappearing from Dreamfinder and Figment’s view. The two gentlemen sit together alone in silence, still feeling the shock and fear of both previously witnessing and explaining what they had seen in their friend. Then Figment leans over to Dreamfinder and quietly brings up an assumption.

“Hey, Dreamfinder.” said Figment.

“Yes, Figment?” said Dreamfinder.

“I was just thinking about what you just said about that one spark escaping to that hospital where Rachel was born in. If that is true, and that Rachel had just turned into that white thing back in the pavilion…you don’t suppose that they are both the same spark, do you?”

“It’s possible. But whatever the truth is, it sounds obvious enough that Eli has been trying to keep Rachel safe in his own hands however he could. I think he originally wanted to use Rachel’s white form for his own use to further his experiments, thinking he could excel in the possibilities of it being connected to imagination. He probably got his answers, but couldn’t go on ahead to continue the project since he might have gotten a little too attached to Rachel, fearing that whatever could happen would have harmed Rachel in the process. He shut down the research lab without explaining much why to Dr. Channing, Channing took offense and then Channing set up a plan of revenge against Eli where he would call on Nebulus to claim him. Eli had only to keep Nebulus occupied long enough for Rachel to escape while also getting himself kidnapped in the process. How else would Rachel be here now if Eli had continued the project as scheduled? For what Eli did, and for what it was worth, he saved Rachel in the end. But in all of this, on a very sad side note, it had left Rachel traumatized with these horrific memories to haunt her…until now. And what’s worse is that while we hadn’t known it, despite Rachel’s warnings, we had brought Rachel closer and closer to a much possible danger that could have occurred all over again for the worst. Thankfully, we’ve all made it past all of that…for the time being.”

“Do you think Dr. Channing knows something about why, though? If he knows at least one small detail about why Eli called the project off and why it concerned Rachel a lot?”

“If he does, then Rachel may be in a lot more danger than we realize. He and Nebulus may only be after us, but if either of them gets a hold of Rachel, too, the results of what could happen could end up a lot worse than what we'd face. Therefore, we have to make sure Rachel stays close to us or be kept in a much safer area at all times. Of course we trust her and she trusts us now. So long as we keep Rachel safe but don’t push it so much for us to being overprotective, we should be fine.” Then Dreamfinder notices his purple dragon friend giving him a smug look with his yellow eyes half open and glaring at him, as if he’s notices something deep coming out of his creator. Dreamfinder’s eyes search his friend from top to bottom and up again, not realizing what Figment was thinking but knows it might be something that would likely annoy him. “What?”

Figment looks at Dreamfinder with the smuggest smirk on his face saying, “So you finally revealed your real name to Rachel, huh?”

“We’re just bonding…again…slowly.” said Dreamfinder, trying his keep his pride up with his nose aimed high.

“Kissy-kissy!” Figment teases as he puckers his mouth and makes kissing sounds.

“Figment, do you know how to turn a dragon into a fricassee with water and a broken spark plug?”

“No?”

“I do!” Dreamfinder replies harshly.

“I take it back.” Figment gulps.

********************************************************************************************************

“BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK!” Algar screams aloud, piercing Rachel’s ear.

“Algar, you’re getting a bath and that’s final!” Rachel yells. “If you’re going to start living and lie forevermore, you have to be clean!”

Rachel struggles to pull Algar into her bathroom for his first bath. The tub is filled with hot, soapy water with few bubbles ascending from their large bubbly body. A rubber duck is seldom seen floating about in this bubbly fog, hardly moving or making a ripple. A bottle of soap and a clean towel are nicely folded and prepared for bath taking. The only problem for Rachel is getting Algar into the tub first.

She grabs Algar by his hind legs as Algar, pursuing to escape as he flaps his small feathery wings real hard and reaches forward to grab the doorknob and pull himself free. Unfortunately, with Rachel having more body mass than his creation, she has the upper hand. Rachel pulls Algar up to his waist and then grips him tightly by his shoulders. Algar tries to squirm his way out, but it is no use. Then Rachel tries to push Algar into the tub only to struggle to achieve this as Algar extends his arms and legs to all the four corners of the tub, preventing himself from having Rachel push him down any further.

“Come on, Algar. Are you really going to make this hard for me?” Rachel groans, receiving a hearty smile from the young gryphon with his head turned towards her with a nod. “Oh really? Hmm…What? Yeah, I’m trying to, Dreamfinder, but he just won’t do it! I guess Algar’s not afraid of having any fleas or ticks crawling all over him in his fur having his blood sucked to a raisin! He might be strong enough to fight against all that malaria he’ll get from the mosquitoes that are flying about in here. Then again…maybe not!"

And with that, Algar makes a tarrying scream and drops into the tub, making a big splash big enough to soak Rachel in the process. The gryphon grabs the brush from Rachel’s hand and starts scrubbing himself until every inch of his body is full of suds. His beak is now brightly polished, his talons are fresh and clean and sharp, and by the time Algar dries up once he finishes, his fur and his feathers will be as soft and smooth as silk.

“Works every time.” Rachel mutters to herself.

“Did you need me, Rachel?” said Dreamfinder, coming into the bathroom behind Rachel.

“No?”

“I thought I heard you calling me about mosquitoes. We don’t have any of those in the cabin.”

As Algar’s ears perk up as the sound and pronunciation of Dreamfinder’s sentence, he realizes that Rachel had tricked him. He growls at Rachel in a exaggerated anger, giving her the cold stare and whacking the brush end to the other talon he has free. 

“Nice job, Blair.” Rachel grunts.

“BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK!!!!” Algar screeches his high pitch barking, trying to jump back out of the tub and attack Rachel.

“Algar! No! Bad boy! Heel!”

“My goodness!” shouted Dreamfinder. “He really is part dog!”

“Among other things. Algar! Sit!”

But Algar would not stop. He jumps out of the tub with his wings flapped open, sprinkling the entire room with drops of soap and water mixed together. Both Rachel and Dreamfinder are soaked by Algar’s attempt. They are pushed to the side as Algar break through the door, still mostly covered with bubbles all around his body and leaving a trail. Rachel is tossed aside by the fogged-up mirror as her hand wipes off a clean streak of clear visual for her to see. In that clean streak, her eyes meet with a sudden appearance of a reflection that is not herself at all. A glowing aura-like figure, pure and white as freshly fallen snow, peers through the cleanly wiped window in the mirror with its glowing yellow eyes looking straight at her and cringing at Rachel’s unfortunate fall. It makes a small giggle at Rachel’s fallen position as Rachel is covered with water, soap and some toilet papers that had just attached to her skin with the water. Seeing this figure, and without Dreamfinder noticing, Rachel makes a swift gasp at it. She stares at the figure long enough until Rachel blinks her eyes once and then twice. At the second blinking, the white figure is gone from view. Perhaps Rachel may have been hasty with her judgment against what both Dreamfinder, Figment, and even Algar had seen. 

Algar is headed outside of the cabin and into the open air. But just as Algar is about to fly outside, a long towel sheet interrupts him and collides with him. The gryphon struggles to wriggle the towel away from him. In the midst of this, Figment is floating beside him, giggling from a distance at this apparent “prank” he had just pulled. 

“Gotcha!” Figment laughs from a distance. “You look so silly, Algar.”

“Bark! Bark! Bark! Bark!” Algar barks angrily, finally exposing himself and tossing the towel aside. “Huh?”

Suddenly, Algar has taken no more mind of the bath he had just escaped from. He does not notice Figment following him or Rachel and Dreamfinder rushing out of the cabin space to grab him again. They all stare at him weirdly as they watch Algar slowly flapping away from them towards Dreamfinder’s seat at the front of the Dream Machine. They follow the gryphon all the way upfront until they too, begin to see what Algar had just discovered.

Far below them is a vast plain of green fields with lush green forests spread about in patches all across the wide area like quilted fabric. Small dots of bright white, dark grays and blacks in the resemblance of castles and large mansions are sprinkled in distant areas away from each other with small bodies of tiny houses surrounding most of them. There are small groups of sheep, cattle and horses are gathered together in their own groups accompanied by the watchful eyes of their shepherds and shepherd’s children and shepherd’s dogs. The skies are blanketed with gray clouds, overcastting with spots of sunrays beaming through them and lighting partial areas of the land below.

“Wow!” Algar exclaims.

“Nice view.” said Rachel as she stares at all she could see below them.

“Gee, where do you suppose we might be now?” Figment asks.

“I don’t know, Figment.” said Dreamfinder. “But we’re going to find out right now.”


	3. Chapter 3

Somewhere in the darkest depths of the universe, the real Nebulus has watched through his crystal ball the affects of the monster in the Imagination Pavilion being defeated by the Dreamfinder, Figment, Rachel and Algar and then their arrival into this strange new world. But the one thing that has truly caught his attention is the glowing white figure that had appeared right out of the Bewilderness, fluttering about like a fairy as it falls to its knees. He didn't see the white figure change back into Rachel, but assumes it to being Dreamfinder. His fists rest on the arms of his chair tightened, but restrained. His glowing red eyes glare brightly at his prey. In spite of the beast's failure in capturing Dreamfinder, his mouth ironically grows big with a hidden enthusiasm. The sight of the white figure has somehow made him feel giddy.

"So…you've finally shown your true colors, Blarion Mecurial." said Nebulus in a sly tone. "You're evolving."

"Master." A servant of Nebulus walks in as stiff as a tin soldier without oil. His gaze is blank, but straightforward and not even blinking. It's as if he is some kind of a trance. "The prisoner is becoming restless and Professor Nigel Channing has failed to capture the Dreamfinder."

"I know that! And I take that our dear Professor Eli isn't comfortable in his cell."

"Yes, Master."

"Mmm…it's about time anyway. Send a platter of food to his cell and feed him. I will deal with Channing myself."

As the servant leaves Nebulus in the dark, Dr. Channing walks hesitantly inside. He inches his way to the other side of the crystal ball, trembling throughout every fiber of his being. His arms vibrate, his legs shake, his back is locked and his eyes are wide in the suspending awkward silence of his failure. But Dr. Channing tries to keep a straight face. He purses his lips as he tries to watch every movement Nebulus would make in this black atmosphere.

"You've failed me again, Dr. Channing." Nebulus brings up in a dark expression.

"I-I-I-I'm sorry, Nebulus-uh, Master…sir." Channing stutters. "I tried to get him, but-"

"Don't waste your breath! I know what happened. You were attacked by a young woman whom you've failed to dispose of. And from what I've heard, she is the same girl that Elias had tested her with. So that's TWICE the times you've failed to kill her."

"There was nothing I could do, Master! She was just too strong and-"

"SILENCE!" Nebulus shouts, as he jumps from his chair and watches Channing cringe with fear at his feet. "I care not of your pitiful losses! Your incompetence has slowed us down once again!" Nebulus slowly sits back down on his chair and glares back into the crystal ball, grinning devilishly and playing his fingers to his left cheek. The white figure is still in Nebulus' vision with its aura flickering brightly as a candle and moving with grace."Just look at it, Channing." he said. "The Tomorrow's Child swimming about in the air like an angelfish in the sunlight. It's beautiful. And soon it will be mine."

"Master." Channing stutters. "What do you intend to do with this Tomorrow's Child? What's the purpose in obtaining it?"

"You dope! The Tomorrow's Child is the single most powerful being known to my people, said to be even more powerful than I. If I am not careful, the Tomorrow's Child could destroy me. But if I play my cards just right, however, the Tomorrow's Child could be of great use to my advantage. Its power will become my power once I catch it and contain it along with the Dreamfinder and all of the other figures I had captured, just as I had done with your friend. Still, they seem to have found your friend's journal, which contains a good amount of details of my weaknesses and what I strive for. If they all read whatever is inside that book, they'll likely take the upper hand in their stead and foil everything for sure."

"Nebulus, are you ever going to let Eli out?"

"Don't you fret, my friend. I will let your friend go free and present you the reward I had promised once the real Dreamfinder slash Tomorrow's Child are in my grasp. Fail me again, and you won't be so lucky. Do you understand? Because if you don't, I'LL MELT YOU INTO A PUDDLE AND CAST YOUR REMAINS INTO THE DEPTHS OF SPACE!!! Swear unto me!"

"I do!" Channing cries aloud.

"Good boy, Nigel." said Nebulus calmly, "Now…here is what you must do."

***************************************************************************************************

In this new discovery, Dreamfinder hurries over to his pilots seat and takes control of the Dream Machine again with all of his friends crowding up behind him. He shifts the levers to their necessary positions, clicking the gears back and forth until they are finally locked down. No sooner after that does the Dream Machine start slowly lowering down from the gray clouded skies. As they get closer to the ground, they notice a few inhabitants of the land standing below them in awe in the spectacle of the Dream Machine's flying machinery, granting that this may be the sort of thing that may not have been seen in this world before. On the other end, the lower to the ground they are coming, the more eager each one of Dreamfinder's team want to jump off and start exploring. It has been a while since they had entered a different world not of their own, having been so busy dealing with school and personal problems at home and almost dying every now and then in the process. 

In hopes of not getting noticed too much, the Dreamfinder hides the Dream Machine in a small but thick forest of trees. The snapping of tree branches are heard aloud like a crackling of tiny fireworks as they descend, misplacing all of which that have resulted into a wood pile nest. The birds screech and holler allow as they frantically fly away in fear along with many of the woodland creatures that have perched about. Much of the metal on the Dream Machine have been scratched on the way down and the balloon holding the machinery and the cabin has got but a few cuts, that much that can be mendable. The very least of all of this they have safely landed on the ground.

"Jeez, Dreamer!" Rachel shouts, as she struggles to jump off the Dream Machine and onto the wood pile. "You couldn't have figured out a safer way or place to land this thing? Someplace…open?"

"Sorry, Rachel." said Dreamfinder. "But I was afraid of drawing too much attention should anyone have seen us coming in."

"You've gotta admit, though, that was exciting!" said Figment with an ecstatic tone.

"Oooooooohhh……" Algar groans, heavily floating down into Rachel's arms.

"Aw, are you okay, buddy?" Rachel murmurs, only to receive another groaning from Algar in return. "I think you'd better stay with me for a while."

"Nice looking forest." said Figment. "Where are we?"

"I don't know," said Dreamfinder in his confusion as well, "but I don't think I've landed us too far from the edge of this forest. We should at least go out and explore for a little bit."

"And what about the Dream Machine, may I ask?" Rachel asks with both concern and sass. 

"It's just a few scratches. Yes, the balloon is a bit more of concern, but at least the damages aren't severe."

"Then which way should we go?"

"Why don't we go that way?" Figment suggests. "I see a light through those trees over there."

"Then we'll go that way." Dreamfinder says. "Stay close."

Dreamfinder, with Eli's book in hand, and Figment start off ahead with Rachel and Algar behind them. But just before the two behind them march forth, Rachel stops and with her, Algar. She plucks her necklace from under her shirt and whispers softly for Yuna to appear, which she does in her human form instead of a sprite and as beautiful as ever.

"Do you know where we are, Yuna?" Rachel asks quietly.

"Nice to see you, too, Rachel." said Yuna back in a smart tone. "Hello, Algar."

"Bark!" Algar barks in gladness, seeing as how Algar is comfortable with Yuna's presence.

"Yuna…" Rachel mutters.

"Actually, I won't tell you about this one. I think this is a place you'd rather much learn for yourself. You might be surprised."

"Then can you at least help fix the Dream Machine while we're gone?"

"It shall be done. And then…we'll talk more…about what we've discussed."

"Fine." said Rachel. "And then you'll meet back up with us when you're done."

"Of course." said Yuna. "I don't think it will take long for me to fix it, though. Just call for me whenever you need me."

Leaving Yuna to fix the Dream Machine, both Rachel and Algar immediately rush back ahead catching up to Dreamfinder and Figment. But as they run, they thought they had just heard a rustling in the bushes. At first, Rachel and Algar believe that the Dream Machine may have crushed a couple more branches and trunks from the trees. But in their midst, they had only caught a small glimpse of a shadow running behind the bushes and trees that have not been affected by the Dream Machine's crashing. In the trees' shadows, neither Rachel nor Algar could make out who is out there. Whoever it is has certainly gotten Algar growling at the unseen intruder. And whenever Algar growls or barks, it is a sign that there is a possible danger lurking about them. Just as Rachel and Algar were about to investigate, the shadow disappears from view and in their suspiciousness they both return to their attempts to reach back to Dreamfinder and Figment, not knowing that the shadow is still there watching them as they leave.

When they get there, they find them staring just outside of the edge of the forest. In front of them is a vast, lush green plain with some other trees scattered and sprinkled about. Some great mountain ranges, some jagged, while others majestic, can be seen from a great distance. Flocks of sheep are hurdled together, quaking with from the recent sounds of the crashing trees being splintered into toothpicks as their shepherds hasten to try to calm them down. The clouds that flow far above the surface are pierced by sunbeams leaving only small patches of the otherwise clear blue skies to be seen. A bounty of waving hills are sloped upward and downward, leaving gaps in between for easy access to travelers, as well as dirt roads to lead them there and back wherever they go or have come from. 

"Oooooooo!" Algar whistles, then pants in his excitement.

"This view looks really neat!" exclaimed Figment.

"Kind of reminds me of my father's background; we're Irish on his side." said Rachel.

"Strange." said Dreamfinder. "Most strange, indeed."

"Most strange about me being Irish?"

"No, this place. It all of a sudden looks and feels so…familiar. Like I've…like I've been here before…sometime."

"Hmm?" Algar grunts in a confusing curiosity.

"How can you be so sure?" Rachels asks. "We just got here."

"I don't know. It's only a feeling I'm getting. I'm sure it's nothing."

"Maybe we can ask someone where we are." said Figment in suggestion. He then points ahead to a man holding a wooden staff, tending to his sheep, and says, "How about that shepherd over there?"

Figment flies off from his friends and heads for the one shepherd and his sheep. His friends follow him. The sight of the small purple dragon flying in the midst of the clearing plain has startled the sheep as they cry aloud and scrabble their feet in place and backing away together in a huddle. The shepherd himself even became startled by Figment's appearance. For whatever reason, despite Figment's good will and fun cunning attitude, the shepherd jumps back in fear and screams aloud. 

"Good gracious!" shouted the shepherd with great alarm. "Thither's a dragon in our midst! And it speaks!"

"Hiya pal!" said Figment in his cheerful emphasis. "Can you tell me where-"

"No, please! Keep thy distance from whither I stand, foul beast, and leave me be with mine sheep!"

"Hey! Take it easy, sir! I'm not trying to cause trouble. I was just wondering if you can tell me and my friends where we are; what this world is and what it's called."

"Figment!" Dreamfinder calls out from behind as he, Rachel and Figment finally catch up to him. He approaches the shepherd in a good and calm manner and says, "Pardon us, good sir, but would you kindly tell us where we are?"

"Thy language is most strange, good sirs and lady." said the shepherd calmly, but still in astonishment. "I taketh that thou art not from 'round h're, art thee not?"

"Nope." Figment answers.

"Your accent, English?" Rachel guesses.

"Fifth to sixth centuries, I'd say." said Dreamfinder, making a wild estimate. 

"Thou must beest most wondrous wizards to possesseth such wondrous creatures and to walketh 'round in such strange robes." said the shepherd. "Who art all thou?"

"I am called Dreamfinder, " said Dreamfinder as he takes a step forward. "and these are Figment, Algar, and Rachel."

" 'Sup?" Rachel waves coolly. 

"Such strange names," said the shepherd sincerely, "and yet so fitting for the likes of ye. Where doth thou cometh from?"

"Well…both Figment and Algar here are made out of dream power- uh, magic per se. Algar is Rachel's companion and they come from the United States of America. But Figment here is my companion and we both come London of Great Britain."

"Thou art from London Town?" the shepherd exclaims.

"We are."

"What a coincidence! I am from London Town by mine own fath'r and his fath'r as well! And we art standing on the outskirts of Berkeley, England even but now."

"Woah! Are you serious?" Rachel exclaims.

"Wow!" Figment exclaims also, accompanied by Algar's barks and outbursts. "Check it out, Dreamfinder! We're back in your own stomping grounds!"

"Medieval England!" exclaimed Dreamfinder. "How can we be here? Unless…we've gone back in time! We've gone far back in time before any one of us would have been born yet! This is incredible!"

"I begeth to disagree with thee, Sir Dreamfinder." said the shepherd in a grave tone. "For we art living in an unfortunate age without our lief king to lead our people. Our king hast died in battle against a most horrible foe. But in doing so, that gent hast did save our lives, while also leaving us to despair of his death. From then on, we hast been wasting hence to rid all ov'r again suff'ring from the battles our knights hast combated for the English throne."

"That sucks." said Rachel. Folding her arms and bowing her head ever so slightly.

"Aye, it is. But yond is not the worst of it. Recently, there had been only rumors of a strange sir and feared sorceress who art plotting to taketh the throne of England and to did cast a waft of darkness yond may englut us all at any given time. Only our king couldst saveth us, but alas that gent is gone." But as the shepherd lifts his head to the group, he realizes a shocking discovery. He points towards Dreamfinder and shouts, "But wait! Ye beareth the resemblance of our king hadst hath lived in life! Thou must beeth our king reborn!"

"Who? Me?" said Dreamfinder with a cry in his amazement.

"But how can this be? Thou hast been taken to the land of paradise aft'r thine battle four years past."

"Four years past?" said Figment. "Is that how long your king has been gone?"

"Aye." said the shepherd in his anguish. "Out belov'd king hast been dead for four years. But with Sir Dreamfinder here, th're may still beest hope for the English soil to no longeth'r beest tarnish'd by the blood of evil wrought by our people. Prithee, mine own lord, thou must not but saveth us!"

"Uh…any way we can, mister…uh-"

"I am called Basil, the shepherd. I liveth here in the land of Berkeley upon these plains, raising mine sheep in peace. Though I fear yond peace may not lasteth for much longer so longeth as this evil continues to reign."

"Pleased to meet you, Basil!" said Dreamfinder kindly. "If there is anything we can do to help, any information on what to do about this mess and where to go would be most appreciated."

"I know not what jump is being putteth into lodging. There hast been other rumors yond our king may still beest alive somewhere in the land of paradise waiting for a time to return to us at which our we art in need of him. But there is someone who is't may knoweth what might hath happened to our king in his moment of grievous wounds. Thou must go south to the town of Amesbury. There ye shalt findeth a covenant, and in there a nun wast who is't once the wife and queen to our king. The lady may beest able to help thee."

"How long is the journey there?"

"By horse, the journey should be no longer than six hours." said Basil.

"Six hours?!" Rachel moans.

"That is pretty far." said Dreamfinder, cringing inside with his throat tensing up. "What if we walk? How long should that be?"

"If't be true thee stand not ho to rest, I wouldst sayeth almost…twenty hours." Basil replies, only to be given a a very dead silence in their shock, up until Rachel breaks the silence.

"Twenty hours?" Rachel utters. "TWENTY HOURS?! You've got to be kidding me!"

"The Dream Machine is still in need of repair," Dreamfinder brings up, "so I guess we don't really have any other choice in the matter."

"Okay, fine. We'll try the pony ride. Any place where we can get a horse, Basil?"

"I hast a horse in mine own stable. I shalt let alloweth thee borrow it for as longeth as thou needeth it."

"Yippee!" Figment cheers.

Within minutes, the shepherd Basil returns to Dreamfinder and his friends and delivers them his horse. It is a magnificent looking horse. It is a large horse of gold with hair that are like strands of silver and starlight. Its height from head to toe is just as tall as Dreamfinder is with his top hat on, its eyes are as green as glittering emeralds, its hooves mighty and brown as the earth, and its body is short but its legs make up for it in height. At first sight, the first expression that comes about everybody's face is a smile in giddy glee…except for Algar. When he saw that horse his eyes grow big, diluted and red, he crouches down to the ground with all of his legs locked into a position where he just as well might be ready to attack, his wings are spread out and flaring like fire, and he loudly growls gruntingly. He sidesteps around the horse, waiting to pounce should the horse either run or try to attack him.

"Whoa, Algar! What's wrong?" Figment asks in his shock of Algar's change of attitude.

"Oh right!" Rachel cringes. "I forgot to tell you that some gryphons are a bit aggressive against horses. I guess Algar may be one of that some."

"It's okay." said Dreamfinder. "We're not forcing Algar to ride on the horse with us. He can just fly."

"Bark-bark-bark-bark-bark-bark-bark-bark-bark-bark-BARK!" Algar argues, folding his arms and sticking his beak in the air. In translation, he says, "There is no way I am going to ride on ANY horse!"

"It's okay, Algar." said Rachel with sympathy. "I can fly with my imagination at will. You can fly with me while we follow Dreamfinder and Figment."

"…Ro'ray."

"You're going to give flying another chance?" Figment asks.

"I've grown used to it by now." Rachel replies.

"Then it's settled!" said Dreamfinder heartedly. "Rachel, you and Algar can fly ahead of us while me and Figment go on by horse."

"Fine." said Rachel. "Only you're leading. I don't know squat about England other than it being a country and you being born in it."

"Thanks so much, Basil." Figment called offhand to Basil, waving his arms in farewell. 

"I bid thee farewell, my friends." waved Basil in return. "But thou must be careful. Since our kings death, the land hath been filled with knights and monsters of the most unspeakable horror and will slay any man should they attempt to passeth by."

"We'll be careful!"

"Let's get moving." said Dreamfinder. "HYAH!"

With a tuck on the hind side of the horse, the Dreamfinder and his friends set out for Amesbury. Soaring up many feet above him and Figment are Rachel and Algar happily following their hosts/friends in this new adventure, though Algar is perhaps far happier than Rachel is in regards to flying and not going anywhere near the horse. The gryphon leaps and circles around Rachel, doing backflips and twirls in the air and barking happily like any dog would. It fills Rachel with the greatest delight to see her own imaginary enjoying himself let alone being alive. She joins Algar in the fun, giggling very loudly to where both Figment and Dreamfinder can hear them from underneath. They each exchange a pair of smiles at this scene. This may be the happiest Rachel has ever been both in general and when she uses her ability to fly. Rachel lowers down just a bit by Dreamfinder's side and, without trying, she looks deep into Dreamfinder's eyes and his smile feeling the positive splendor of his face looking at her.

"Hey Dreamer," said Rachel, "you're from England. You ought to know where everywhere is in this country. Any chance you may now where Amesbury is?"

"I ought to." said Dreamfinder. "It's near where I grew up as a child and just westwards from London. Though there is some geographic matters to take heed of. Who knows far or close both Berkley and Amesbury are from each other in this time?"

"Basil said that it would take twenty hours to get there by walking." Figment points out. "It might be real far from the two places in this time compared to ours."

"That's a good supposition." Dreamfinder pants, while riding the horse nonstop. "Let's hope the journey there isn't as long as Basil predicts."

"Bark! Bark-bark bark!" Algar cries out from above.

"Algar, what's up?" Figment asks. He then giggles, "Aside from you?"

"Be'rind uh!" Algar shouted. In translation, he says, "Behind us!"

Sure enough, there is something behind them. More importantly, someone behind them on horseback! A man dressed in black is hurdling right behind them in hot pursuit. It's eyes are as red as fire and its figure as black as pitch. Same goes with the horse, as well as being twice the size in weight and height of its rider. The rider's face is concealed; not a trace of lines to define its character except for the curves of the eyes determining its anger and desperateness. Whoever this person is supposed to be, he is in super hot pursuit of the Dreamfinder and his friends. This mysterious black rider rides faster and faster and faster by the second, gaining up on them. He swiftly raises a large sword in the air and starts waving it and screaming like a madman.

"WOAH!" exclaimed the Dreamfinder. "HYAH!" the Dreamfinder clicks the horse on its sides, making the horse run faster. Poor Figment is sent flying off the side and riding on the horse by the strands of its tail. Rachel and Algar immediately pick up the pace as both soar like jets after their two remaining friends.

"Hey Dreamfinder," Figment cries out in his shock, "what's going on?"

"Someone is hot in our trail!" shouted Dreamfinder.

"Who?"

"I don't know, but I highly doubt he seems friendly at all. HYAH!"

"Dreamfinder! Wait up!" Rachel shouts.

"Bark bark bark bark bark bark bark!" Algar squeaks piercingly.

"Hey! That looks like that guy that was just creeping around us when we left the Dream Machine behind."

"What?!" Dreamfinder shouts. "Someone was watching us?"

"I wonder what he wants." said Figment.

"I don't know about you, but I don't want to stay and find out." Rachel professes.

"There's another wood in front of us." Dreamfinder points ahead of them. "We can lose him in there."

So Dreamfinder, Rachel. Figment and Algar all dash together towards the woods they have spotted with the mysterious screaming mad rider following behind them. The woods are as thick with green that is unlike any green forest they have ever seen. The inside is dark and it looks like it gets even darker and darker the further they would tread into. From what they can see from the outside, there isn't a speck of light or life within that wood. Who knows if there is anything living in there. If anything, it is possible that wolves and snakes and spiders may be living in there. But now is not the time to be thinking of the worst of what could happen. It is bad enough they are already being pursued by some horrid stranger.

As Dreamfinder attempts to run everyone into this dark forest, the horse suddenly stops and whines in a frenzy. It's too afraid to go inside. Judging by the horse's behavior, that can only mean that there is a definite danger within this forest. Double-backing danger coming in from both sides it seems inevitable that there is no one out and that our heroes will have to choose which way to get out of this situation: either get themselves cornered and slaughtered by some mad man they don't know or run into a deep dark forest of likable horror. The vote to go inside the forest is unanimous. Dreamfinder clicks the horse again and then they all pursue straight into the forest. 

"Hurry! He's coming!" Figment shouts.

"Figment, can't you distract him?" Rachel asks loudly in her growing adrenaline.

"Me?! How?!"

"I don't know! Breath a wall of fire or something to block his path."

"A wall of fire? But I don't know if-"

"Figment! Just do it!" Dreamfinder shouts backs.

"Bark Bark!" Algar barks in his encouragement.

"Alright." Figment says, as he swallows a large gulp down his throat. "I'll try."

Figment flutters back towards the mad black rider watching him run faster and closer to them. The dragon takes a deep breath. His mind is cool and steady. He breathes in a gust of air into his lungs and blows out…a small flickering ball of flames equivalent to the size of a fist. He tries shooting out a couple more, but they each come out with the same results, causing all of the little sparks of flames to combine into one little campfire.

"Whoops." Figment gulps again.

"Blair," Rachel starts in her unease expression, "please tell me this is just a warm-up for Figment."

"Uh…I'm afraid not, Rachel." Dreamfinder groans sorely. "I hardly believe that in all of the ruckus we have had in the course of our adventures I had given thought in training Figment how to breathe fire."

"ARE YOU SERIOUS?! He's a dragon! How can he not breathe fire?"

"I DON'T KNOW! I don't know! I'm not a dragon like he is! Look, we don' have time for this. The darkness may be the only thing to conceal us. I don't really think we have much of a choice but to go in."

"BARK-BARK-BARK!" Algar squeals out to Figment.

"Figment! Let's go!" Rachel shouted.

But Figment would not move. He becomes intimidated by the black rider as it approaches right before the dragon. Its eyes glare at him fiercely with fiery bloodshot eyes stinging Figment's eyes in its never ending stare. The dragon's purple scales turn pale as they shake like pebbles on a stone ground, his arms and legs vigorously, and his wings flap rapidly. The black rider raises its sword up high, ready to slice the little dragon in two should Figment not move quickly. But just as the rider's sword was about to touch and slash poor Figment, Algar swoops in, grabs Figment by the tail with his beak, and pulls him away from the rider. The rider misses his victim and his sword has been struck deep into the ground, giving him the struggle to pull it back out.

Now was the chance to run into the forest to safety, if there is any. Both Figment and Algar catch up to Rachel and Dreamfinder in their pursuit. The rider ignores the small fire and resumes his chase. They rush through the forest, dodging trees and branches along the way. Their hearts are beating fast without stopping a moment for breath. Soon the sun could no longer be seen, save for the small rays of sunlight trickling through the small gaps between the leaves in the tree. The deeper they run through this dense forest, the darker it became. The only way the rider can maintain this quest is by hearing the sounds of exhausted pants and clopping hooves of his victim's horses galloping in the dusks of this forest. The Dreamfinder's horse suddenly jumps over a outgrowing root from a large oak tree where Figment pushes a flexing branch forward and out of his way. The rider behind them avoids the root underneath him, but is knocked off of his horse as Figment releases the branch and rushes on. Soon the black rider is left alone screaming in his anger and frustrating failure, while Dreamfinder, Algar, Figment and Rachel are still rushing forward as far away from the danger as they possibly can. 

Finally, when they can no longer hear the sounds of the black rider following them, they stop. Their breaths are heavy and long, prolonging the desirous need to recover. All of them, including the horse, are covered and swimming in their sweat from head to toe and their bodies hang over in a curved form like a hook. The only problem is that though they can feel the weariness that has overtaken their strengths, the physical forms of all their weariness cannot be seen in pitch black darkness.

"Is everyone alright?" Dreamfinder pants heavily.

"I'm fine." said Rachel, also breathing under heavy breaths.

"Me too." said Figment.

"Ree-roo." Algar cheeps. In his translation, he says, "Me too."

"Good. Everyone's here." said Dreamfinder in a light relieved tone. "I can't see any of you, though."

"Me neither." said Rachel. "But at least we're away from…whoever that guy was."

"We had only gotten away by a hair. Hopefully, next time we see someone like him we keep that same advantage."

"Some dragon I am." Figment sighs in defeat. "I can't even breath fire to save our lives."

"Don't say that, Figment!" said Dreamfinder in sympathy. "Sure, you weren't able to breath fire back there, but your still a dragon all the same and we all love you for that."

"I appreciate it, Dreamfinder, but it's not going to help me become a better fire-breathing dragon."

"You don't have to. We all like you just the way you are. You know that."

"Thanks, guys." Figment said, bringing up a reluctant smile.

"Now all we have to do is to find a way out of this forest." Dreamfinder proposes. "The question is…how?"

"Figment. Algar. Can either one of you fly up through those trees and see where we are?" Rachel asks. "Maybe even shed a little light in here so we can actually see each other?"

"Ro-ray!" Algar speaks up. But as he was about to prepare himself to volunteer, Figment swoops upward into Algar's place.

"Don't worry." said Figment with confidence. "I'll go up and check. If I can't breathe fire, at least I can navigate."

Figment, wherever he is in this darkness, flies up to the trees for light. He bumps his head several times underneath the trees' branches, causing some leaves to fall onto his friends where they quiver with a creeping chill running up and down their spines at their soft-touching brushes, not knowing when or where there is another possible danger lurking about them. The dragon struggles to climb through these trees. Eventually, Figment misplaces his foot and falls back down in the darkness and lands onto Algar. They both screech and groan on top of one another. Screams are heard from Rachel's throat from the impact, startling Dreamfinder in the process. Their plan had failed.

"OW!" Algar and Figment shout.

"Are you guys okay?" Rachel asks.

"I'm fine." said Figment. "Are you okay, Algar?"

"Ro!" Algar groans saying, "no!" in his translation.

"You two stay together!" Dreamfinder exclaims. "No telling where you may be or whether or not you may get separated again."

"Well, that didn't work." said Rachel in her annoyance. "Now what?"

"Why don't you try breathing a little fire again, Figment?" Dreamfinder suggests.

"What good is that going to do?" Figment whines in question. "We know how badly my fire-breathing came out just now."

"Whoa…guys?" Rachel suddenly feels lightheaded. Her body is swaying back and forth in its weakening, her breaths have become short, light and fast, her eyes begin to glow into a brightly yellowish-white, and she clutches her body from chest to waist tightly in the unexpected change in temperature that is burning through her body, but neither Dreamfinder, Figment, nor Algar can see it all in this dark forest.

"It shouldn't hurt to try, Figment." said Dreamfinder. "There is a saying: if at first you don't succeed, try and try again."

"Guys?" Rachel groans some more, but still remains unnoticed.

"But suppose I do make a big enough fire," said Figment with a hypothesis, "won't it set the whole place on fire and burn us to a crisp?"

"It could." said Dreamfinder plainly. "That's why your small fireballs can work to our advantage. It'll decrease the likeliness of us getting burnt into cinders."

"Guys!" Rachel yells. Algar becomes the first to notice Rachel's sudden agony. He whistles to Dreamfinder and Figment through his beak and they both have caught Algar's attention. The gryphon starts to bark frantically of Rachel, to which only Figment, being made of dream power like Algar, can understand him.

"Bark-bark-bark-bark-bark!" Algar cries aloud.

"Something's going on with Rachel." Figment translates.

"Rachel? Rachel, are you okay?" Dreamfinder shouts with great worry.

"I…I don't feel so good." Rachel promptly pants, breathing heavily once more in this strange predicament. "There's something inside me. It's hot, it’s growing, it's driving me insane! I don't…I don't know what…what-what's happening to me?"

"Rachel! Rachel stay calm! Look, I'm right next you now. I'm right here."

As Dreamfinder tries to comfort Rachel, a tiny glow begins to illuminate from her chest with her sapphire blue necklace providing color in their surroundings. The glow burns brighter and brighter by the second, it finally starts to shed light in the surrounding area they stand in. The horse they borrowed from Basil neighs and whines wildly, rapidly kicking its hind legs away from the group. The light that is garishly flaming brilliantly now begins to spread throughout Rachel's body, engulfing her arms and hands and legs as it reaches towards the back of Rachel's head and consumes her face. Her breaths quicken even faster now. She begins to cry the faster this peculiar light is burning and radiating from her.

"Blair." Rachel cries, as tears begin to fall on all of the corners of her bright yellow eyes. "Blair! Blair, I'm-"

"Shhh…Don't be afraid, Rachel." Dreamfinder coos softly, as he caresses her cheeks in hopes of calming her down. It obviously isn't working. "Don't be afraid. It's going to be alright. This is what we've been telling you: this is this white form you've been turning into lately. I don't know why this is happening to you, but I promise you we are going to figure this all out."

"But Blair, I don't want to change! I don't-"

"I know! Just hang in there, my dear. We're going to find some help."

"Blair! BLAIR!"

But Rachel's entire body has been entirely immersed helplessly into this bright white aura. The white figure they had mentioned to her before has slowly returned, forming once again into its femininely-built form and flowing hair to match with Rachel's, but with its own flare. It's closed eyes blink open once again, giving this creature the chance to see Dreamfinder embracing the one he believes to be Rachel. Algar and Figment stare at the white figure motionless and wide-eyed at the its presence. The Dreamfinder's lip quiver with a tormenting horror and agony as his throat is clotted shut, denying anymore breath to come in at his condition. The white figure notices that it is in Dreamfinder's embrace. And in this embrace, the white figure finds warmth and goodness in his heart. It knows that there is a strong love present in his soul. The white figure gently nudges its head upon Dreamfinder's beating chest, whimpering like a puppy to be petted, but Dreamfinder flinches. He steps back in terror as he has just witnessed to the woman he loves being possessed by this glowing creature, hoping there is a way to break it away from her.

"What have you done to her?" Dreamfinder gasps in horror and frustration to the white figure. At first, the white figure says nothing. Instead it begins to study Dreamfinder's appearance very carefully, only to be interrupted and shocked by Dreamfinder shouting at it. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH RACHEL?"

The white figure makes a reply, but everything it is saying it comes out in cute little chirps. If Rachel had been around to hear it, it would sound like those little star creatures from the "Power Plumber: in SPACE!" video game (ala Super Mario Galaxy). The white figure then hugs Dreamfinder tightly, but tenderly, wanting to feel more of the warm embrace it had just felt from him. But with each of its attempts Dreamfinder keep flinching from it, backing away from the white figure in his mix of horror and confusion.

"It seems to like you a lot, Dreamfinder." Figment estimates. 

"Clearly." replied Dreamfinder. "Any chance you can make out what it was just trying to say?"

"It says that Rachel is safely asleep inside herself and it will bring her back until it helps us get out of the forest without anymore harm."

"Oooooooh!!!" Algar whistles in awe of the white figure's illuminating glow.

Then the white figure floats back up in the air and swims towards the frantic horse, frightened by the events that have just happened. It presses its forehead above the horse's muzzle and onto the horse's forehead. In a matter of seconds, the horse begins to calm down. It is no longer kicking its legs in the air or whining loudly. Instead, the horse is calm and is taking a liking to the white figure's presence, much to everyone else's amazement and curiosity.

Algar watches the white figure and stares at it more. He feels some kind of strong familiarity bubbling up between the two of them. Despite its brightness, he stares at the white figure carefully from head to pointed, toeless…well, toes. A small pink heart is beating moderately in rhythm inside the creature as if the creature is playing some kind of song that only Algar, and perhaps Figment, can hear. It sounds so familiar. Where has he heard it before? If he even has heard it before, then when? And how? Then it suddenly came to him. He finally knows who this creature is and is happy about it. If anything, Algar has become increasingly ecstatic! Algar, barking happily as ever, flies over to the white figure. He swooshes around it playfully, kisses its cheeks with his big doggy licks and then cuddles himself up in the white figure's warm and loving embrace.

"Blair…" Figment gasps lightly. "Algar thinks he knows this white figure. And frankly, I think I do, too!"

"Really?" said Dreamfinder in his excitement. "Who is it?"

"Well…you know how my name is implied: the Figment of Imagination?"

"Yes? What of it?"

"That white figure over there IS imagination! That thing is Imagination in the flesh: Fantasia!"

"What?!"

"I could be wrong, though, but I have a strong feeling inside that it is. If it is, then I wonder why it's here?"

This revelation has struck Dreamfinder dumbfoundedly, bewildered and amazed at the supposed identity of this white individual. His eyes grow wider with shock. His jaw is dropped and opened wide. And his body is trembling. Never in his life had he ever thought that the one being who is allegedly Imagination itself could ever exist at all. He always believed that imagination is abstract from the start until he could make it materialize. This discovery right here has definitely a whole light on things. What is even more compelling is how this Fantasia creature has somehow taken a hold of Rachel's soul and has silently inhabited her body for so long. But could it really be the case?

The white figure, gently letting go of Algar, floats back up and starts to fly away. Its light brightens up the surrounding area of this forest. Then with its arms and hands, Fantasia pushes aside the tree trunks to create a pathway for its friends. It waves its arms, signaling them to come forward and take the path.

"I think it wants us to follow it." said Figment.

"Oh! Yes, yes. We should leave this place." said Dreamfinder with his mind snapping back into reality. "Let's go."

Everyone follows the now-possessed Rachel through the tree lifted pathway it has created for them. As they tread on through the forest, they begin to see more of the sun peeking through the crevasses of the trees. They are getting closer and closer to the edge of the forest. Dreamfinder, who is following his friends and the white-figure by horseback, is still trying to comprehend what is happening, what this thing is, and why it has Rachel in its possession? The more he thinks about it, the more and more worried he becomes of his beloved. He trots the horse closer to the white figure, hoping to get some answers.

"Um…excuse me, uh…Miss…Mister…It? Fantasia, is it?" Dreamfinder shyly stutters, grabbing Fantasia's attention as it floats down to Dreamfinder's eye level. "I'm…well…I'm kind of…I don't really know what to say. I mean, you…I mean look at you!" In response, the white figure giggles as it blushes, wraps its arms behind it and coils itself shyly. Dreamfinder continues saying with a shy smile, "I'll take that you find that as a compliment, I suppose. So…what about Rachel? Why are you inside her? Does she know about you? ….Is she safe?"

Fantasia had only just nodded its head. It didn't really answer any of the Dreamfinder's questions, but he assumes that it meant to say 'yes' to the last question about Rachel being safe. In relief, he graciously sighs and continues riding forth. The rest of the trip out of this forest went on in complete silence. When they finally reach the end of this forest, the sun greets them again blinding their eyes at this sudden change in weather pattern.

"Ow! That's bright!" Figment exclaims.

"My goodness!" Dreamfinder exclaims, also being blinded by the light. "I suppose we owe this…Fantasia person our thanks. Don't we?"

In an instant, Fantasia swoops down and settles itself down into Dreamfinder's arms again, caressing his cheek lovingly and closes its eyes. Dreamfinder blushes, trying not to smile in a flabbergasted way. More importantly, he didn't want to get embarrassed again by both Figment and Algar. But just as Dreamfinder was about to let Fantasia off of him, it starts to change forms again. This time, Rachel's form returns in place of Fantasia's. Dreamfinder eagerly grabs onto Rachel and pulls her back to him with her head nestled on the right side of Dreamfinder's chest. Her eyes are still heavy, but in their squints, she manages to open them again leaving her to see Dreamfinder once again after the sudden pain that had temporarily consumed her.

"Blair? Dreamfinder?" Rachel mutters.

Relieved, the Dreamfinder pull Rachel to the closest he could get her to, hugging her tightly, and happily gasps, "Yes, Rachel! I'm here! I'm right here! Everything's fine now."

"What…what just happened? One minute, I was in pain. Then I was…gone. Asleep, maybe. The next thing I knew I'm back. What happened to me, Dreamfinder?"

"The same thing that has been happening the past couple nights since we left the Imagination Pavilion. The same thing we've been telling you. You just turned into that white figure again!"

"What?"

"Oh, and get this: it's name is Fantasia and both Algar and Figment know it as Imagination itself!

"What? I…I don't believe it!"

"It's true, Rachel!" Figment exclaims. "It really is Fantasia deep inside of you. And Algar was all over that thing like it was a large pile of meat."

"HEY!" Algar screeches.

"But…I don't get it." Rachel stutters in despair. "What does it want with me? Why is it in my body? WHY?!"

"Shhh…shhhh…we'll worry about that later." cooed the Dreamfinder, in attempts to calm Rachel down. "The important thing is that you're okay and we know what's been causing you to change every once in a while. Right now, we need to press forward to find that nun in Amesbury."

"Is that it?"

Rachel points ahead of them. Right there in the distance is a small town, scattered with small bodies of people walking about, The houses are made of stone with roofs of hay. The road pavement, also made of stone, stretches far and wide until they reach around the edges of the town. And gray overcast of clouds hover above it with only the sun to be blocked by it from shining. They can hear the indistinctive sounds of the townspeople chattering aloud and the clompity-clomps of horse hooves trotting around on the stone ground. This has to be the place.

"If it is," assumed Dreamfinder, "then we have come here a lot quicker than he had hoped for."

"How about that!" Figment exclaims happily. "Fantasia has given us a short cut to out destination!" 

"ROO'RAY!" Algar cheers.

"Everyone," said Dreamfinder, "I give you…Amesbury!"


	4. Chapter 4

They ride forth towards the town of Amesbury, where they had intended to be. The place looks very much medieval in itself as Dreamfinder had predicted, but more so the people. Each and every one of them, them being "peasants," are dressed as if they were all born poor in the dirt. Much of them look as if they have been strained of their energy had not yet recovered for over the course of many long years. In which case, almost half of the town seems to be sitting on the sides of many of the stone houses lounging up against their backs and hardly lifting a finger with any sign of energy. Even the animals in this town are having a hard time keeping themselves standing. The Dreamfinder, Rachel, Figment, and Algar all slowly walk through town by their horse [though Algar much prefers to float above it due to his apparent hatred for horses] and notice how very little the resources of the livestock are; for one child they pass, they see only one egg, an eighth of a bucket of cow's milk, and a very small crumb of bread equivalent to being half the size of the palm of his hand. Never before have they seen a child look so melancholy and so utterly down. They each try to maintain their emotions and keep their tears at bay within their stinging red eyes. The worst part is that this child is not alone in this depressing matter, but for almost everyone else that it is almost rare to find at least one person still standing and full of energy to provide for another.

The streets, as well as the walls, are covered in filth. That much is expected considering how personal hygiene hasn't exactly been invented as it seems, but by the looks of this town, Amesbury is in a complete mess! The skies are as dull gray as a nail. Perhaps darker, if need be. The nature of its trees and bushes are all dried up and dead with not a single leave to bring life to its people. Instead, they look more like brown withered skeletons ready to tumble down and break into splinters. The songs that are sung in the village are of groans of great misery and sorrow, a sorrow that has cut deep into the peoples' hearts that would take a far greater miracle to recover from. Corpses are lying on the streets, both man and animal of all kinds. Even the flies that feed off of the dead are dying within seconds of consumption like they have been poisoned. The town of Amesbury is in so bad of shape that there are no more words that could further describe the insufferable condition these people are living.

"Nice town." said Figment, trying to keep positive. "Could use a little color here and there, though."

"This is terrible!" exclaimed Dreamfinder. "What could have done this?"

"Whatever it is, I hope it's not contagious,. said Rachel, thinking back to when Dreamfinder had been infected by the Abiteth monster back in the Deshanjah Desert. "We've already had plenty of sick illnesses affect us to fight off from."

"Well, somebody here must know what's going on."

"Prithee..."

Out of nowhere comes a small boy dressed in the filthiest rags, as if he had been playing in the mud and dirt excessively without baths, limping towards the newcomers. He struggles to lift his head up, but his small blue eyes make up for them to meet with these strangers. If he was not so dirty, you can tell how blonde the boy's hair is. He is lean in flesh, a complexion so milky white, and is about 4'8" tall, maybe five inches. The look on the poor boy's face is unlike any look they have ever seen; so depressed and desperate, but weak. If anything, this child may be the most miserable of all the children in this village. It is enough to make a man, or perhaps anyone, fall to their knees and give what they can give if there is any.

"Prithee sir..." said the boy weakly. " wouldst thee by any chance has't aught thee can spareth me for mine own moth'r? The lady is sick and I has't nothing to help her with."

"What did he say?" Figment asks.

"He's asking if we have anything we can provide him for his sick mother." said Dreamfinder in translation.

"Did you just hear that?" Rachel asks.

"What?" said Figment. "The boy talking?"

"No. My heart. It just broke. Poor thing."

"Something...anything..." the boy moans.

"I...I wish we had something to give you, kid." said Rachel sadly. "But I'm afraid we've got nothing."

"Where is your mother?" said Dreamfinder in a stern tone.

"In...in..." the poor boy could hardly finish his sentence, but somehow he manages to speak his answer, "...In mine own house by the well and the stone mure (wall)....over th're."

"Show us."

Struggling to lift himself up, the boy attempts to lead his helpers to his house. Unfortunately, he could not walk far. As his small dirtied feet trudges through the damp, muddy ground, the boy trips in a small hole and falls to his chest. In a state of horror, Rachel jumps off of the horse from Dreamfinder's gentle grasp and runs to the boy. She brushes the mud off of his clothes and picks him up in her arms. The only thing the boy could do now is lift his hands high enough to signal where his house is. As they all pass by the other miserable villagers who are sitting by helplessly, they finally reach the boy house. Figment knocks gently on the door. Upon the first knock, the door opens and everyone walks inside.

The house itself is not a sight to see. There are cobwebs and dust everywhere! The ground cover is none but dirt that would fly into the air with even a single step. The walls are made of wood, withered and eaten by weather, time, and termites as pieces of their bark splinters in and out of the house, leaving open gaps likely for more bugs and other rodents and creatures than could crawl in unnoticed. As far as the furniture goes, there is only a fireplace, a table and four chairs, and two mattress beds of cloth and straw, one big, enough for two people to sleep in, and one small bed fit for a small child. The larger one of the two is half filled by a young woman, sick and pale with disease. They assume this woman is the boy's mother. It has to be since there is no one else in here. Rachel slowly and gently lays the boy, who becomes unconscious in her arms as if he had just died, in his own bed, tucking him in as tightly as possible from the bitter cold air. There is no sign of heat at all. And it's no wonder either considering there is not much wood in the fireplace. The only source of warmth there is are its embers and even that is not enough to warm up the entire small house. Dreamfinder looks down at the boy's mother. He couldn't believe his eyes when he saw this woman; this is the worst of pale skin he has ever seen. Her hair is crumpled, stuck-together and stringy from the mud and dirt she had been marching in previously. Her face is cold as ice and covered in horrific red spots as well as the rest of her body.

"What is it?" Rachel solemnly asks.

"...Smallpox." said Dreamfinder. "Figment, see if you can find something in the cabinets that might help this poor woman. And Algar, would you bee so kind and tidy the place up as best as you can?"

"Righto!" exclaimed Figment, as he sends out a salute of assurance to his creator. He searches everywhere through every nook and cranny in the building. There are not many cabinets or closets or chests, so there were not many places to search through but through the windows and into the cobwebbed corners.

"Bark bark!" Also in agreeance, the small gryphon Algar flies about, blowing away the dust and dirt out the door with his wings from his friends.

"Smallpox?" Rachel exclaims in shock. "I thought smallpox was didn't exist anymore!"

"Maybe not anymore in the twenty-first century," Dreamfinder points out, "but you remember that these are the Middle Ages. There are plenty of variations of dreadful diseases and smallpox is no exception."

"What are you going to do, Dreamfinder?" Rachel asks, but Dreamfinder ignores her, seeing as though he is trying to study this disease much more thoroughly.

"Dreamfinder, I couldn't find anything useful." said Figment. "There's nothing in this house but a stale piece of bread and three beans."

"Nothing?" said Dreamfinder, as he lifts his gaze to Figment's attention. "Then this can't be helped. I can't imagine what we can do to save these poor people. Unless..." The Dreamfinder then looks back towards Rachel at the necklace around her neck, the necklace he gave to her. He did say that the necklace could grant her any wish she desires, but could it really help this particular in this time of need? "Rachel," he said, "could you, by any chance, grant some wishes with your necklace? Ask it to help provide whatever is necessary to cure this family."

"Hmm...possibly." said Rachel. "I'll give it a try." Inhaling and then exhaling a deep breath through her nose, the girl closes her eyes and with a clear mind, she speaks her wish. "I wish to have everything I need to help these people from this disease."

The necklace glows brightly; brighter than the sun that fills the entire house. Strange that it's illuminating so much light without Yuna being around. Perhaps her presence inside the necklace has blocked the passage of her wishes coming true when they are asked. There isn't much else to explain, but at least the jewel is doing something to Rachel's benefit. As the light dims down, a big black bag appears on top of the table in the center of the house, closed and intact. The Dreamfinder approaches the table, eager to see what lies inside the bag in hopes of Rachel's wish providing them what she had desired. He opens the bag, with Algar and Figment hovering over him behind his shoulders, and finds <>i>exactly what they need: utensils for surgery, if needed, hydrogen peroxide, some cloth and bandages, and some certain medications among other needs.

"Well done, Rachel!" said Dreamfinder with a smile so large on his bearded face. "Your dreaming has improved tremendously! Now let's help these people." As Dreamfinder digs through the bag, he finds a white mask As everyone puts on those masks, the Dreamfinder calls out to Rachel, "Quick Rachel, hand me that-- My word!"

Before Dreamfinder could finish his request, Rachel is already morphing back to Fantasia's form but it too weak to fight it back. Or is she? The way Fantasia's white self is appearing does not seem to be completely overtaking her again. Like blood through veins, every trace of the whiteness of Fantasia is creeping through Rachel's flesh from her heart to her forearms and hands. And if that isn't freaky enough, Rachel can feel the force Fantasia is putting on her arms as they quickly, but gently, press onto the chest of the sick woman. The woman's heart glows brightly along with Rachel now-possessed arms. The red spots an blemishes from her smallpox are starting to disappear slowly. Her breaths are sounding less raspy and more clear. And her pale face is warming up to a warmer peach-tan tone.

"Blair?" Rachel speaks uneasily. "What's happening to my hands?"

"Touch to matter medicinal manifestation!" Dreamfinder gasps in his excitement. "My goodness, that's brilliant!"

"Wowie-wow-wow!" exclaimed Figment. "That woman is changing...for the better! I don't know how you're doing this Rachel, but whatever it is, keep doing it!"

"I...um...okay." Rachel anxiously clutters. "I guess I can keep going...for however long this may go." As Figment heads over to help Algar with the dust, Rachel leans over to Dreamfinder's side in secret saying, "Is it Fantasia?"

"I think so." said Dreamfinder. "As fascinating as this is, I can't figure out or imagine why this is happening. And to you?"

 

"You call me getting possessed by some ghost-thing fascinating?"

"You know I don't mean it in that sense, Rachel. Believe me, I'm just as worried about this as you are. But at least what Fantasia is doing with you is helping this poor woman. It might even help the rest of this village if it helps deem this woman cured of this ailment. I suggest you keep this up for a little longer, as much as you can, until Fantasia decides to stop."

"Blair..."

"Yes?"

"Will...will you stay with me?" Rachel whimpers with her eyes beginning to swell up, as her arms begin to tremble slightly as they hover over the woman's heart. "I'm scared."

"Of course I will." said Dreamfinder with an assuring smile forming on his face. "I'll tell you what: you finish up with this woman and I'll tend to the boy here. Okay?"

"...Okay."

The two of them now sit together alone, healing the sick to the best of their abilities while Figment and Algar get together making the house nice and orderly. Within minutes, the woman has become far less sick than she was, thanks to Rachel- uh, Fantasia...whoever. Meanwhile, with Dreamfinder handling the little boy who had brought him and his friends to the house, the boy seems to have finally relaxed from his constant misery. Eventually, the boy finally opens his eyes, blurry as a thick fog, as he sees both Dreamfinder and Figment staring down at him. He tilts his eyes to the sides where he finds Rachel still healing, if it can be called healing, to begin with, his mother with Algar at Rachel's side. The boy's mother is still unconscious from the disease, but with the relaxed look on her face has the boy sigh with relief. He looks back up to Dreamfinder and Figment with a clearer vision of them.

"W-what is happening, sirs?" the boy breathes like a wisp.

"It's alright, young man." said Dreamfinder. "I've treated with you a bit. A good hot bath and plenty of rest in a clean environment should have you back to normal in no time."

"Mine own...mine own moth'r. Is she...?"

"She seems to be doing okay." said Figment with a smile. "Our pal, Rachel is doing everything she can to save her...however she's doing it."

"Don't you worry, lad." said Dreamfinder. "Your mother is going to be fine, I assure you."

"Art thee mine own king?" the boy asks. "Has't thee cometh backeth from the dead to saveth us?"

"Uh, actually, I'm not this king you are mistaking me for. As much as I'd like to know what it's like to be a king for a day, I'm afraid I'm anyone but."

"I'd call you a king." said Figment happily. "So long as I get to be your champion dragon."

"You're already that, Figment!" Dreamfinder laughs heartedly. "Nothing else can change that."

"Oh goody!"

"But if it be true thou art not mine own king," the boy says in confusion, "then who is it art thee yond bears such an incredible likeness to that gent?"

"You mean our names?" Dreamfinder guesses. "Well, since you asked, my name is the Dreamfinder. And this is my imaginary dragon friend, Figment."

"Hello, hello, hello!" Figment cheers, as he flies loop-de-loops in the air with his tiny little wings carrying him.

"And that over there where your mother is at is Rachel and her imaginary gryphon friend, Algar." said Dreamfinder, who is unable to grab Rachel's attention on account that her thoughts are conflicting between her undivided focus in healing the boy's mother and her fear of Fantasia inside her body controlling her without warning. "We're not from around here, but we've come from a far different world...uh, time in the far distant future. I suppose by now, given the circumstances with our own vessel, the Dream Machine, being broken with a few scratches, we're here to help in any way we can."

"Thy words art weirdly hath said." said the boy. "Thou truly wilt not cometh from this realm. Certes, thou must beest wizards liketh the greatest one, Merlin. Or Jesus, perhaps?" In the midst of the boy's assumptions, both the Dreamfinder and Figment notice Rachel and Algar snickering and chuckling in the background.

"Merlin? Jesus? Oh no! I'm most certainly not." Dreamfinder laughs heartedly. "Though as far as wizards go, I suppose we are in our own way."

"That's right!" shouted Figment in his excitement. "We're wizards of imagination! And we use the power of imagination to help others for the greater good! We're nice!"

"How very strange," said the boy, "but very fascinating at best. If this is true, then why art thou here?"

"We're here for two reasons: A. We want to help fight against the bad stuff that has been going on here, and B. we're looking for a giant ball of metal filled with energy."

"The geodesic sphere, Figment." Dreamfinder corrects, as he then turns back to the boy saying, "But yes, that is why we are here. We have heard that this king that you and everyone else are referring to may still be alive and we are hoping to see if that is true in our journey. We came to this village seeking a nun who might possibly know something about his whereabouts."

"Thou must mean Sister Gwen." the boy assumes. "The lady hast hath lived in the church near here for some years anon. The lady hadst cometh here all of sudden and hadst did stay in the church ev'r since tending to us all in our greatest needeth. Sadly, the beshrew hast becometh far worse than at which hour it did start."

"Where can we find this church?"

"Tis not far from h're. T's up the road towards the cent'r of town with a tiny crosseth on top. Thou can't misseth it."

"Thank you." said Dreamfinder with a warm smile. "As soon as we finish up with you and your mother, we'll make our way there."

"Nay!" the boy's mother wheezes from her own bed beside Rachel and Algar as she is being healed. She tilts he head ever so slowly towards Figment and Dreamfinder's direction, trying to make her voice sound as clear as possible. "Nay. Thou wilt wend and seeth her anon. If 't be true our king truly is alive, then we might not but has't that gent backeth to saveth us all the lief'r."

"I don't even know what 'lief'r' means," said Figment, scratching his head, "But this king here needs to come back here soon!"

"But Madame," Dreamfinder argues, "you and your son are still sick. We won't leave until you-"

"Tis well enow. Grant you mercy to thee, mine own son and I anon has't the strength to standeth up and help ev'ry one we can. It may not changeth the way of how we art cursed, but at least we can still giveth each oth'r desire."

"I hate to say this, Dreamfinder," said Rachel in remorse, "but we may just have to continue on. For one, the longer we stay here, the longer these people are going to suffer this curse under whoever. Secondly, I hardly believe that whatever is going on with my hands that's healing this woman is not going to last any longer anymore."

"Prithee..." the woman gasps, "Findeth Sister Gwen. The lady shall help thee."

"Oh, very well." sighed Dreamfinder in defeat. "But what about the boy? Every child is clearly essential for the sake of mankind's future."

"Mine own son, Taylor, shall stayeth with me and tryeth to help settleth our causeth as most wondrous as we can. What matt'rs anon is the searcheth for Sister Gwen and the king, if 't be true that gent is still alive, I pray."

In almost an instant, the woman slowly sits herself up. It seems that whatever has cured this woman mostly, whatever bright glow Rachel was using in her hands, has done the woman a far greater service than any remedy she had ever used. She seemed to even look a lot healthier than ever proclaimed. Still, her strength has yet to be recovered. She weakly crawls out of her thin-sheeted bed and over to her son, whose name is Taylor, and holds his head tenderly upon her lap. She gently takes hold of Dreamfinder's hand and squeezes it firmly, giving him a reassuring nod, as well as a look on her face saying that she insists. 

"Prithee...if 't be true thou art not our king, then findeth that gent. Saveth our people. Our future depends on him."

As the woman says this, Dreamfinder stands up and looks down at Taylor and his mother in sympathy. His eyes solemnly stare down at them with pity, but he manages not to show it to them.

"We will." said Dreamfinder calmly, squeezing the woman's hand firmly. "We promise."

"That's right!" said Figment excitedly. "We'll find your king and bring him back before you can say, 'Off with his head!' "

"Uhh...yes, Figment. Quite. Algar, Rachel, are you two ready to go?"

The bright white light glowing around Rachel's hands have now just disappeared, as if they have soaked themselves into her flesh, giving Rachel an immense wave of the chills. Her arms and hands are still trembling tremendously. The thought of something, or someone possessing not just one but ALL of the parts of her body at its own free will without allowing Rachel any chance to intervene has gotten Rachel scared to her wits. The trembling stops as the Dreamfinder takes hold of her hand and pulls her up to her feet, while Algar nudges his head against the other for Rachel to pet him and scratch him on his head. The four strange persons finally leave the mother and child's house and back out into the wave of miserable people moping and moaning about at their presence.

"Gosh! I almost forgot about everybody else here." said Figment with sadness in her heart and tone.

"Awwwww...." Algar groans in heartbreak.

"Well," said Rachel, "as much as I'd love to help these people myself, there's not much we can do to help them feel better. For one, we don't have the time to help. Second, even if we do, we don't have the proper equipment to help cure these people. Third, even with the proper equipment, I hardly believe it would be enough to last them all for the time being while this curse is still upon them, which makes it all the more reason to go out and find this supposedly 'not-dead' king and bring him back as everybody wants."

"But how are we going to find this king?" Figment argues. "He could be anywhere here! We don't even know his name!"

"Well, this nun in the town's church should know the answer to at least some of our questions. Basil did say that she was once the king's wife and queen, so she must know plenty. We need answers, clues, answers for those clues, and we need the Dream Machine back in operation. I have Yuna fixing it up right now and I told her to bring it right back over to us as soon as she's finished. Hopefully, she'll be done super soon."

"Oh goodie! So long as Yuna can make it ship-shape, then we're good to go!"

"Uh...yeah." Rachel drawls, as she raises an eyebrow at Figment remark. Normally, like Dreamfinder, Figment doesn't believe that Yuna exists no matter how many times she's told them. Maybe Algar might have vouched for her to Figment and somehow convinced the little purple dragon. Though being imaginary made by the abundance of dream power by Dreamfinder, Figment should have been more open to Rachel about Yuna from the beginning. Now it's as if he's accepted Yuna's presence as a whole, let alone her existence. She tosses her incredulous manner of mind aside for the time being, knowing that finding this Dreamfinder-look-alike king is what is most important right now, and says, "I suggest we find this church and meet up with this nun first and then figure out what to do next. Let's go!"

With Rachel leading, both Figment and Algar start following her. But Dreamfinder, however, remains in place. He stands there staring at the village streets with somber eyes. To see this village slowly fallen into ruin with its people struggling miserably to survive as best as they can. His lips almost quiver, his eyes begin to swell with small amounts of tears, and his hands clench into fists. The sounds of moaning continue to grow louder and louder in volume, making their way into Dreamfinder's ears and haunting him like ghosts.

"Blair?" said Rachel. "Are you alright?"

"...These people have it much worse than I ever did when I was a young lad." said Dreamfinder in remorse.

"Worse than you? How?"

"My family and I were never well off with any money. Especially when we used to live in the country before moving to London. As a child living there, I tried to make the best of our situations by being me to at least shed a little light in the house no matter how dreary many of our days were. Me going to school was just about the only hope I could give to help my family stay alive and put food on the table and keep the house warm. As opposed to these people, however, they don't have the comforts of the homes you and I are used to. They don't have heating vents or motorcars or even personal hygiene. I want to do something for these people. Something big to lift their spirits!"

"Maybe by finding this king of theirs will get them back on their feet. Besides, this curse that Basil mentioned may be the cause of this particular problem. If we don't achieve this mission in finding him, wherever he is exactly, if even on this Earth anymore, they'll remain like this forever. And who knows? It might even impact everyone's lives in the future, including ours!" For a moment, Blair said nothing. Only a solemn look on his face has overwhelmed his soul as he watches the pitiful people suffering sorrowfully. Taking Dreamfinder by the hand, Rachel continues saying, "I know you want to help. I do, too. And I think the only way we can help them is by pressing forward and find the answer ourselves. The first step we have to take is finding that nun. The rest will fall into place. Hopefully, to our advantage. But it won't get us anywhere if we just stand here feeling sorry for everyone. Besides, we're out of things to help heal them with and we're not even doctors at all!"

"You're right." Dreamfinder sighs. "Standing around won't get us anywhere. Let's be off for that church before anything else happens."

Soon Rachel and Dreamfinder rejoin with Figment and Algar as they trudge deeper into the filth infested town of cataleptical-hearted peasants and animals. The sounds of mourning and groaning and wailing increase in volume as if a large choir are endlessly singing in monotone. Not a single shred of laughter can be heard nor a smiling face to be seen. It's enough to make a man's heart weigh down heavily like lead. The four adventurers continue quickly through the town ignoring their cries as best as possible, feeling the worst of what they see inside. To make matters worse, by the looks on their faces, the peasants cry in fear at the sights of both Figment and Algar. There probably hasn't been a dragon or a gryphon around them in a long time, let alone existed at all. They cringe at their presence, clinging together like balls and turning their faces away. But neither Figment or Algar allowed their judgment to overwhelm them. Instead, they continue on their merry way being themselves as they always are.

Just up ahead is a building with a moderately well-sealed roof and an iron cross at its peak. The walls that support it are made of rough, but coarse stone tightly layered and sealed together. The slits on the walls, mostly mistaken for windows, are evenly cut and hard to see inside from out. The only excuse for a window is a stained glass one at the front head of the church above the door; a stained glass window that would glimmer and shine brilliantly had the sun not been blocked by a sea of dull gray clouds. A small number of peasants, miserable in their state, are sitting beside the church walls with their heads down and blanketed with large dirty rags, hoping no one would see or recognize their need and pain but hopeless all a whole.  
"Hey look! There it is!" Figment exclaims as he points ahead.

"Yes! The church at last!" said Dreamfinder. "The nun must be inside."

Dreamfinder steps up to the front doors and starts knocking on it. A loud thud echoes from the inside. Within seconds, a series of footsteps can be faintly heard as they quickly tread towards the door. The door opens with a loud creek, leaving only a small strip of darkness to look into. Coming out of that darkness, a woman all dressed in white shyly reveals her face to these strangers. Her face is as pale as white, whiter than the robe she wears. Her head is covered by a long white veil, which conceals parts of her dark earth brown eyes and hair. Her figure is small, lanky and thin, but her fair face makes up for it. 

"Hello..." said the nun in a shy quiet tone. "Can I help thee?"

"Yes." said Dreamfinder. "We've heard that there is a Sister Gwen in this church. Is she here?"

"Who is't is't yond wishes to knoweth?"

"I am called Dreamfinder. This here is Rachel and our two flying friends, Algar and Figment. We are here to see if Sister Gwen may know something about your king's disappearance and how we might solve its mystery, as well as the name of this mystery king."

"I seeth not how the king's disappearance is any myst'ry. The tragedy of his death is plain to knoweth as anyone can rememb'r. What pointeth is th're to learneth what is already known?"

"Because we don't know." said Figment. "That's why we're asking."

"What my dragon friend is trying to say," Dreamfinder intervenes, "is that we're not from around here, so everything that may be old news to you is completely new to us. And seeing how these people are in need of desperate help, we wish to volunteer our services in ridding of this...well...whatever kind of curse this is. The only name we are given who might know something about this mess is Sister Gwen. That's why we've come."

"So is Gwen here or...not?" Rachel asks.

"Aye," said the nun, "Sister Gwen is here. Come in." The nun opens the door wide for her strangely dressed guests. But as everyone enters the church, the nun interferes them and says, "Forgive me, but mine own Lord and Savior wouldst beest most displeas'd with having a dragon and a gryphon inside the church."

"Why?" asked Figment with confusion. "Did we do something wrong?"

"It's, uh...it's hard to explain, Figment." said Dreamfinder with a displeasing blush of guilt. "I'll tell you about it later." He turns back to the nun and asks, "But would you be so kind as to let our friends in just this once? They are not evil creatures and we simply cannot go anywhere without them. We promise they won't cause any trouble."

"Oh...well, I supposeth the Lord couldst alloweth thee passeth just this once and f'rgive our sins for it. Very well, thou all may cometh in. And I shall taketh thee to Sister Gwen myself."

So the nun leads the Dreamfinder and his friends through the church halls. Past the pews where few peasants and monks and nuns are praying and sliding towards one side of the church where the stained glass window sits with a dreary dark gloom of darkness behind it, they all come across a large set of stairs leading down to a basement-like room beneath the earth. Several nuns are present there. Some of which are running around with medicines and potions in a desperate schedule to heal the sick and wounded, while others are more or less sick themselves. Everyone else are either walking in a solemn, pitiful manner of remorse and sorrow for the townsfolk or praying hard at the nearby alter with a statue of the Christ. The nuns notice Dreamfinder and his friends, staring at them with great bewilderment at the sights of their clothes and of the dragon, Figment, and gryphon, Algar. Trying to be polite, Figment sends a friendly wave to the nuns to show his kindly behavior. It hardly seems to have any effect on them. 

Passing the crowd of the nuns, they all walk down a long hall where at the end is a large wooden door. The nun opens the door. Inside, a much larger alter of Christ and the cross stands tall with a massive amount of lit candles circle around it, flickering and burning brightly until their wax bodies have melted down completely. At the foot of the altar sits another nun at her knees, praying intensively like the others. The figure on this particular nun is neither plump nor thin, but perfect womanly shape. Her skin, like the nun guiding the Dreamfinder, is also pale, but there seems to be a hint of a peachiness in her flesh. Her emerald green eyes glisten to the candles' lights. Her lips are as pink as healthy tulips in the spring. Her hair is like strands of gold woven straight out of the spindle of Rumpelstiltskin. But much of her beauty is concealed by the white cloaks of her robe and veil. She turns in response to the nun's entrance with Dreamfinder, Rachel, Figment and Algar coming up behind her. 

"Sister Gwen," the nun speaks, "these people has't cometh to has't a word with thee. I shalt leaveth these folk at thy m'rcy for the timeth being."

"Mercy?" said Rachel with a disapproving tone, feeling as if they are either being held hostage or insulted.

"I thanketh thee, Sister." said Sister Gwen in a calm tone. "Leave us be."

The nun takes her leave from and closes the door behind her, leaving the Dreamfinder and his friends to Sister Gwen. All is quiet for a moment. But with one quick glance of Dreamfinder, before Dreamfinder could react or say anything, Sister Gwen immediately jumps into Dreamfinder's arms and sobs loudly. 

"Oh! My word!" Dreamfinder exclaims in shock.

"Arthur!" Sister Gwen sobs. "Oh, Arthur! My king!"

"Um...hello. Have we, uh...have we met before?" Just as Dreamfinder asks his question, a sudden slap on the cheek by Sister Gwen is made and is heard like a snap. "Ow!"

"Wha-?!" both Figment and Algar grunt loudly in shock.

"Oh sheesh!" Rachel exclaims as she tries not to laugh at this sudden outburst.

"What was that for?" Dreamfinder shouts.

"Yond's for scaring me to death! Facing 'gainst Morgan and Modred and not returning to thy people! Thou couldst has't at least hath sent us a message! Hath sent me a message to bid me thou w're good now!"

"What?"

"Oh, mine own king!" Sister Gwen falls to her knees, weeping and sobbing puddles of tears onto Dreamfinder's blue dress pants. Had the door been opened, her cries can be heard by all of the nuns in the shrine. 

"Uh, what's happening?" Dreamfinder asks with a confused expression.

"She must think you're someone else, Dreamfinder." Figment assumes.

"Uh huh." Algar grunts with agreement.

"How long is this going to last?" Rachel asks. "The slap is a little funny, but now it's starting to get pretty serious."

"Listen, miss...uh, Sister Gwen." said Dreamfinder with reassurance. "I'm sorry, but I'm not the person you think I am. My name is Dreamfinder. Not Arthur."

"Nay...nay! This cannot be! Thou wilt be mine own loveth, Arthur. Thou has't his visage! Thou has't his blood! Thou art mine own king in mine own arms again!"

"Huh?" Alagr grunts, lifting an eyebrow in disorientation.

"Dreamfinder? A king?" shouted Figment with shock.

"Okay, settle down Gwen, or I'll bring out the ruler for a spanking." Rachel ordered, adding a stereotypical pun to it.

"Arthur...Arthur..." Gwen mutters in her sobbing.

"Sister, I'm not Arthur." said Dreamfinder bluntly. "You must get a hold of yourself!"

"Nay!"

Suddenly, Rachel lowers down to Sister Gwen's level, grips her by the collar of her robe, and then swiftly slaps her across the cheeks. Her eyes grow wide open as her hands tremble at the contact of Gwen's cheeks. It was bad enough to have already slapped Dreamfinder in the beginning and to Chairman Auckley back in the Academy Scientifica-Lucidus, but this time was too much. She just slapped a nun! When Gwen catches her breath, however, she seems to be in a calmer mood. Shocked, but calm.

"My word! Rachel!" Dreamfinder gasps.

"I'm sorry!" exclaimed Rachel. "I know I said I'd stop, but I didn't know what else to do!"

"Tis good now. I f'rgive thee for thy assault, as does the Lord." Sister Gwen heavily pants. She turns back to Dreamfinder and says, "But truly, thou wilt beest mine own belov'd Arthur."

"I'm sorry, Sister," said Dreamfinder with grief, "but I'm not. My name is Dreamfinder. This is Rachel, and these are Figment and Algar. We've come to ask you about a geodesic sphere we've been searching for and the strange disappearance of your king. And by the look on your face, I'd say you know plenty of the latter choice."

"Tis true. I do knoweth something." said the nun. Her eyes lower down in shame. She studies Dreamfinder's appearance, finally beginning to believe this man really isn't the man she hoped it would be. "Mine own loveth, Arthur," she began, "wast once the rul'r of England. That gent hath led our people into an era of peace from his castle in the south'rn lands east from h're wh're I becameth his queen. Throughout his reign, the king and his brave knights wouldst smiteth all of the evil yond did dare to treadeth upon us all. But in recent years, mine own king hath grown weak in the events of Modred and Morgan attempting to ov'rthrow mine own Arthur by ridding all of the brave knights. Mine own loveth combated 'gainst Modred and defeat'd that gent. But in the end, mine own Arthur becameth gravely wound'd and wast hath carried hence by three maidens across the sea to Paradise. Meanwhile, Morgan, in her rage of Modred's death, hadst did cast a spell upon us all in England to suff'r und'r her hand and obeyeth her ev'ry order. With Arthur and the knights gone, we art the only defense we has't. Very few has't hadst the courage to standeth 'gainst Morgan, but none of those folk has't hath returned safely. For this, we art all living in most wondrous s'rrow in a kingdom with nay desire. Coequal the townspeople art beginning to believeth our Lord is abandoning us. Th're is nay hope hath left...not anym're."

"No way, Sis!" exclaimed Figment. "There's always hope! You said so yourself: very few people had the guts to face this Morgan person. If they could do it, then they had the courage to dream big for their people."

"Only to kicketh the bucket in the end, I'm afraid. Nay one hast ev'r did survive Morgan's wrath since Arthur's death. Tis futile to findeth mine own Arthur in these circumstances."

"Well, we didn't come a long ways just to stop." said Rachel with encouragement. "We think this king of yours is still alive and we're not leaving until we get rid of this curse for you guys."

"Ras rite!" squeaked Algar as in saying, "That's right!"

"Please, Sister Gwen," Dreamfinder intervenes, "can you at least tell us something more about what happened to Arthur had been gone? Where did this happen? And if he's still alive, then why hasn't he come back?"

"I already toldeth thee," said Sister Gwen sadly, "I knoweth nothing of what hadst hath happened. All I knoweth is yond while Mordred and Arthur w're fighting, I did flee h're to Amesbury and beganeth s'rving the rest of mine life to God. All I knoweth is yond that gent wast m'rtally wound'd in Camlann just southwest from h're and wast taken by three maidens on the Riv'r Bourne to Paradise. Yond wast the lasteth I ev'r hath heard from mine own belov'd."

"Camlann..." Dreamfinder thought, "River Bourne? I know where that is! It's about a 1-2 hour walk from here. If we take the horse Basil gave us, we might get there much quicker."

"Cool!" said Rachel happily. "And maybe we'll find some clues as to what happened to the king."

"You can count on us, Sister Gwen!" said Figment with pride. "We'll find your king and bring him back. So says a qualified, brave, and strong dragon!"

"I doth not doubteth thy excitement," said Sister Gwen, "but shouldst thou very much findeth mine own king Arthur, prithee bringeth that gent backeth. Coequal as a nun, mine own loveth for that gent still ling'rs in mine own heart. I cannot imagineth myself living mine own life any longeth'r without that gent."

"Then don't! Just believe he will come back right as rain!"

"I thanketh thee in advance, shouldst thou succeedeth. But I wilt warneth thee, th're art many dang'rs yond may block thy way. Mistress Morgan's minions art not to beest trifl'd with. Those gents art very dang'rous and those gents shall destroyeth thee once thee cometh across those folk and provoke those folk with thy presence."

"Nothing we haven't done before," said Rachel, "but we'll be careful." 

"I shalt sendeth thee to our local weaponsmith." Sister Gwen adds. "That gent hath used to f'rge sw'rds and spears f'r Arthur and his knights. That gent shouldst beest able to provideth thee with the prop'r equipment and armory for thy journey. Giveth that gent this passeth to p'rmit thee his aid."

"Thanks!" Figment shouts happily as well.

"Thank you very much, Sister." Dreamfinder said politely. "We assure you that we will find the answers and will inform you the minute we learn about it. Good day!"

Confident with the information they have received, as little but useful as it is, the Dreamfinder and his friends turn away from Sister Gwen and begin to make their way back upstairs. But in a split second, another gripping tug from Sister Gwen wraps around Dreamfinder's waist tightly. Surprised, Dreamfinder watches the nun make this desperate attempt. Desperate is right, especially since Sister Gwen is a nun who is prohibited from showing love to a partner, as is a nun's nature. Still, Dreamfinder cannot help but feel sorry for Sister Gwen for what she must have gone through. The supposed death of a spouse must have really struck her hard. In his compassion, Dreamfinder tenderly returns the hug to Gwen, hoping the feeling would continue to keep her in good spirits while they are gone. Sister Gwen cups both sides of Dreamfinder's cheeks. She looks him straight in with her tear-filled eyes, summing up the courage to speak her words with whatever comfort is left in her.

"Lord...Dreamfind'r, is't? I seeth anon yond thou truly aren't mine own belov'd Arthur. Thou dresseth diff'rently, thou soundeth diff'rently, and thou speaketh diff'rently. But oth'r than thy visage, I senseth a most wondrous similarity between thee and that gent: thy heart, thy gentleness, and thy willing to giveth yourself to the people at which hour those gents needeth thee most. Mine own hadst Arthur at each moment done his most wondrous to rule in the people's most wondrous int'rests. If 't be true thou art to die in this adventure, it wouldst beest liketh losing Arthur all ov'r again. I begeth thee, prithee beest careful!"

With solemn, calm, and pitiful eyes, Dreamfinder looks deep into Sister Gwen's eyes. He thought of her words and asked himself what would happen if Rachel were to feel the same way about him as both a lover and/or a friend. His imagination has put Rachel in Sister Gwen's place, and in doing that his heart begins to break for both women. But instead of letting out tears, the Dreamfinder stands firmly in front of the sad nun. He gently lifts Sister Gwen's hands from his cheeks and clasps them both in his own warm and gentle hands in comfort.

"Sister," Dreamfinder says, looking deep into her eyes, "I promise my friends and I will stay alive along the way. We will bring Arthur back and get rid of this curse one way or another, so you don't have to worry about anything. At least for the time being."

"God blesseth thee." Sister Gwen whispers. "All of thee. Beeth careful." 

So Sister Gwen had another one of the other nuns escort the Dreamfinder and his company back out of the church instead of herself doing so. Because if she did, it would have only made her feel closer to Dreamfinder believing in herself to think that Dreamfinder is truly Arthur, which he isn't. She remains deep within the bowels of the church, praying vigorously for their safety and their blessing for a successful journey. Her thoughts are flooded by none other than her king's visage, as handsome and dreamy as ever like the Dreamfinder. She wipes her tears away constantly, clearing out whatever blurriness that may be putting itself between the relationship of her and God. 

"God blesseth Dreamfinder" she mutters under her breath, "...God blesseth mine own Arthur."

***************************************************************************************************

Exiting the chapel and returning to their horse, the Dreamfinder, Rachel, Figment, and Algar start making their way to the weaponsmith shop for potential weaponry for their protection. The chapel doors slowly close shut behind them as they walk. As they head on, there came a thought to Rachel about something important.

"You know she didn't really answer the age-old question back there." Rachel said.

"What do you mean?" said Dreamfinder. "Sister Gwen told us some details of Arthur's death, as well as the proximate location of where it happened. For someone who has told us little, I'd say that was plenty."

"I mean about the sphere. Spaceship Earth. She didn't say whether or not it was seen around here before."

"Perhaps in her emotional frenzy in thinking I was her beloved Arthur, she probably never gave much thought of how to answer it. Besides, we're pretty much a hurry to find him anyway."

That did not totally convince Rachel. There may be a little something more that Sister Gwen could not answer. Or more appropriately, would not want to answer. Whichever way it went, it's gotten Rachel thinking.


	5. Chapter 5

The weaponsmith had everything they needed for the adventure. Dreamfinder managed to find himself some garments that only the bravest knights would wear; a bicolored tabard tunic, blue and violet-red, with a black dragon emblem sewn across his chest over a long metal robe of chainmail, a medium-sized pouch to hold money and other such items, black boots, a sword of pure steel with a golden handle and inserted rubies on all ends of the handle, and a shield matching his tabard tunic. Dreamfinder takes a look at his tunic and shield, unimpressed with the color of the dragon he is wearing. He has another idea in mind. Something that concerns a much more particularly, peculiar-colored dragon. Something purple. Checking to see the weaponsmith isn't looking, and with a little bit of dream power conjuring up to his fancy, the Dreamfinder uses his imagination to change the dragon's color. Two little taps, one for the tunic and one for the shield, and both of the dragons immediately turn purple, each is eyes as bright yellow as the Sun. A glance from a chuckling Figment was enough to confirm this slight change of design was the best thing to do. In pursuit of finding a helmet, the Dreamfinder has had no luck. All of the helmets that are shelved or stored away are either too big or too small to fit his head. And as far as weight and color goes, neither bronze nor silver nor iron nor gold would do him any service. So his big, black, classic top hat remains sitting snuggly on top of his head.

"Thou must find yourself a helmet to protect thy head, my Lord." said the weaponsmith.

"I cannot find a helmet suited for me, good sir." said Dreamfinder.

"Thou darest to venture off with a thin helmet of cloth and be killed by thy enemy on the head?"

"Die, no. But I shall have to make do with this for the time being."

Figment's garments are more Robin Hood-like. He puts on a green tunic with a sand-colored shirt underneath and a green bycocket hat. He is a equipped with a bow, perfect for his size, and a full quiver of arrows. About twenty of them. At first, the weaponsmith becomes skeptical about Figment dressing up and issuing weapons. For one thing, he's a dragon! And second, since he's a dragon, he shouldn't be dressing up in human's clothing. And as far as weapons go, why couldn't he just breathe fire as his weapon instead of shooting arrows. Pathetic is what he considers it. But upon Dreamfinder's request as the supposedly alleged King Arthur who had supposedly died for them, granted with the permit bestowed to them by Sister Gwen, the weaponsmith just put his thoughts aside and gave Figment what he needed without question. And the same went for Algar, too.

Algar became equipped with a simply-styled, but very sturdy armor fit for his small size. He is also given a lightweight steel beak to double Algar's strength and chances to snapping material objects into two, including bones and six and a half inch logs. He looks more of a knight than everyone else is. Despite what everyone else says, Algar stands proud and tall, showing off his shimmering armor to all of his friends and everyone else in the building, as is he were walking the catwalk in a prestigious fashion show. Anyone who commented poorly on him, Algar took offense at it and started growling at them. Rachel had to come in and pull Algar away every time he'd pounce on someone. 

As for Rachel…well…nothing. Rachel wasn't given anything. No weapon, not garments or anything. She is just standing there with her arms crossed, waiting and watching her friends getting changed into their new outfits. 

"Excuse me." Rachel calls out to the weaponsmith. "Is there anything here I can use?"

"What? Oh, forgive me, good lady," the weaponsmith, finally turning to Rachel's attention, "but I hast nothing to arm thee with. Yet even so, thou shouldst not be wand'ring alone and about so long as these perils befall the English soil."

"I can take care of myself!"

"Ha-ha-ha-ha! Believe me, she can!" said Dreamfinder with a hearty laugh, after realizing in so many occasions she actually has. 

"Bah! A lady as strong as a man?" the weaponsmith scoffed. "Surest, thy figure cannot stand as firm as thou sayest. Look at ye! Ye be small and thin and dainty as a lady shouldest be. Thy boldness is stern and true at best, but methinks thou hast not the strength to stand and defy the ranks of knighthood. Only a lady of royal blood are taught to fight such skills should a lord be out of his way."

As the weaponsmith said these words, it was with great, but calm, haste that Rachel had searched her own pouch. She pulls out a small stack of photos, photos she had taken herself, and shows them all in front of the weaponsmith's face, who had flinched at this sudden gesture. Each one of these photos reveal the different monsters she and her friends had faced in the past since the start of their journey through imagination, all the way back since Fillidore.

"You see these?" said Rachel with a smart approach. "These creatures, far beyond anything you can ever imagine, are only a few of what I've lately had to put up with, fought against, and won!" Rachel starts flipping through the photos one by one, starting with elephant-tiger-butterfly mixed beast from Fillidore, then King KaZing the Wooso King, Governor Crizwalke, the Abiteth, and finally the Doubt monster whom she previously believed was Nebulus. "This, that, this S.O.B., GIANT, and horrifying! Read' em and weep, brah!"

Astounded, the weaponsmith made no hesitation in rushes back to his station, rummaging through everything he had from weapons to armored garments, nearly tipping almost all of his stock in his sheer bewildered panic. Holding the photos and waving them between her fingers, a smirking head-turn from Rachel's face to her friends has won her some humorous praise. Figment giggled, Algar gave an assuring nod, and Dreamfinder, who shares a good chuckle or two without taking his eyes off of her, is by far the most impressed. Such sass, such humor, and such indistinct charm to go with it. What a magnificent woman, Dreamfinder thought! It has given him all the more reason to love her more.

Returning with a stack of his inventory, the weaponsmith lays out the different kinds swords and shields he found might suit Rachel's needs. They each have a characteristically astonishing design, added with its own individual appeal. The first sword and shield has the sword with a blade as long as Rachel's leg from the thigh down, gilded with a hilt of silver, a leather wrap in the middle, and thinner edges on both sides. It's shield bares the likeness of a orle design of silver, black, and blue with an elephant printed upon it. The second sword and shield where the sword is a little shorter by a few inches with another hilt made of silver. The blade is slightly thicker than the first sword, but given its apparent size makes up for it. The shield, a bendlet sinister, to be precise, is larger than the first one; a cross of gold with black and orange wavy lines counterpartying each square the cross on the shield makes from black, then orange, then black, then orange. The creature in front shows a maroon-colored harpy with its wings widespread and its talons hatched open as if it were threated and ready to attack. This choice is perhaps the most dramatic of all the choices. And lastly, the third sword and shield. The sword has a flatter and wider blade of gold, about two or three inches longer than the second sword, with a polished bronze hilt and slick and dark leather wrap on the handle. It's shield is perhaps the most abundantly designed of all the rest. It has four parts and a center creature. The top left has an orange background with a picture of berries, the top right an orange scallop shell with a blue background, the bottom right a black bear in front of the color maroon, and the bottom left a black raguly cross with the color green behind it. These symbols are parted into four with strips of gold and black joining together at the center where, in the middle of it, a golden yellow gryphon posed upon its hind legs, with wings widespread, and its front talons raised up in defense. To Rachel, it looks as if the gryphon is dancing Michael Jackson's "the Thriller." All of these weapons and shields have sparked Rachel's eyes as she watches the weaponsmith lay them all out in an orderly fashion, swords on one side from biggest to smallest, while the shields remained on the other side from smallest to biggest.

"Whoa!" she exclaimed. Her eyes light up like a child peeking through the window of a toy store at Christmas. "These looks amazing! Oh, by the way, do you also have any other kinds of garments I could wear for our travels? A tunic or metal plates or armor that might fit me, perhaps?"

"Thou lookest dressed enough to me." said the weaponsmith. "Besides a pair of shells to protect thy shoulders, thou lookest as plain as another man."

Rachel scrunches her eyebrows and frowns, turning towards Dreamfinder and Figment who, in return, deliver back to her a paired set of embarrassed, guilty smiles and couple of hands waving weakly with a struggling optimism as they feel their sweat running down their heads. Seeing what is about to happen, they each try to slowly take a step backwards, away from Rachel's reach. 

"YOU GAVE ME THIS OUTFIT TO WEAR AND I'VE BEEN RUNNING AROUND ALL OVER EXISTENCE LOOKING LIKE A MEDIEVAL SLOB THE WHOLE TIME?!" Rachel shouts.

"It was all we could afford!" said Dreamfinder weakly, trying to win the argument. It's obvious he is not doing a good job. "We had already spent so much on food rationing and lodging as it was during the expo. We couldn't find anything affordable to get for you to wear."

"And besides," Figment jumps in, as he leans over Dreamfinder's shoulders with his crocodile nose reaching out and pointing straight at Rachel with a smile he's managed to bring upon his face, "you look really nice in that outfit. It's flowy and adventurous, it's you!"

"I'm gonna kill you both later." Rachel mutters. She returns he attentions towards the weaponsmith for more important matters, saying, "Alright, let's get on with this. What have you got?"

"Let us begin with these swords." said the weaponsmith. "This first one is a Calvary Sword. A sturdy blade it is, in which it hast been wrought and forged with iron. Tis hast a grip worthy of both thy comfort and efficiency, which makes this sword a most popular weapon to be wielded by our best knights. The cutting is good, at best, but I fear it be not in best suit for stabbing through stronger metal. Methinks it mayest beeth too large for thy size, but I beseech ye must try to carry it by hand to be certes."

Rachel reaches out for this sword and tries to pull it up with one hand. Indeed, the hilt in this sword is rather too big for her, but the size of the blade is fine. Still, the size of the hilt is too heavy for Rachel to grip and is causing her hands some muscle pain. She puts the sword back down onto the table on the spot where she took it from and shook her head.

"Fear not." said the weaponsmith with confidence. "There beeth more swords to choose. This one here is a classic of the English, the Windlass, and is wrought with steel. This shouldst have great handle, perfect balance, sturdy, and lightweight. Tis not the fanciest sight of a sword thou seest, but the use of it that carries it along makes up for it."

This second sword that Rachel picks up is much better than the last one. The grip is far better to handle and the blade is not as overbearing as before. Rachel swings the sword in an open space, making sure not to slice any one of her friends, and makes some nice clean cuts. This may be a winner for her, but she puts the sword back down on the table, checking to see what the third sword may do for her.

"This is a nice sword." said Rachel with satisfaction. "But let me see the third sword first before I make my decision."

"Of course." said the weaponsmith. "This last sword is also a Windlass, but it performs much differently. While this sword handles well, I fear it is heavy of slight. Why it is that way is because it is wrought with iron, so thy cuts shouldst be more effective. And more so if thy blade is sharpened finely. Have a try at it?"

Rachel lifts this third sword up and take another few swings at it. True to his word, this sword is a little heavier. The grip is nice, but Rachel thought it would do her injustice to lug this sword all over creation and weighing her down. She returns the sword back in its place, looks at the weaponsmith in the eye, and gives her final verdict.

"So now, what say ye?" he asks. "Which sword suits ye best?"

"I think I'm going to go with this second sword." said Rachel. "The first Windlass you showed me that's perfectly balanced."

"Excellent choice, good lady! I shall think this sword will protect ye well. Now to the shields."

"Ooh!" said Algar, interjecting with great surprise.

"So neat!" exclaimed Figment. "Look at all these designs."

"Yes, quite fantastic-looking, I must say." said Dreamfinder.

"These shields speaketh a lot more than they showeth, my lords," the weaponsmith intervenes, "for these shields haveth symbols with meaning. This one here, the elephant symbol, represents great strength, longevity, happiness, royalty, good luck and ambition to its owner."

"Not bad." said Rachel. "Though, I'm not sure this is really me."

"Thou thinketh to hastily, good lady. There is still more. For this shield here bears the symbol of a harpy, that which it represents ferocity under provocation. These colors also do giveth symbolic meaning. This gold strip for generosity, the orange stands for worthy ambition and the black stands for constancy or grief."

"Oh my!" exclaimed Dreamfinder.

"It's a little close," said Rachel, "but I think this may be a little too dramatic for me. This last one looks like it says a lot, though."

"Aye, that it does. This third shield beeth the most desired of our knights. Here beeth four parts: here we have the symbol of berries for happiness in an orange slate for worthy ambition. This symbol here bears the shell, which says 'Travelers of far away places' over a blue backing for truth and loyalty. This is the bear of strength and protection of thy kindred over a maroon shade of victory. And lastly, this fourth image bears the raguly cross for all of thy difficult obstacles thou must have encountered with a green space behind it that should represent hope, joy, and loyalty in love. And there be the mighty Gryphon at the middle for means of valour and death-defying bravery."

"Rachel! That's you to a 'T'!" shouted Figment.

"This one. Definitely this one." Rachel said.

"So be it!" the weaponsmith laughed heartedly. "Thy sword and shield art now yours wield in combat. And since thou hath bringeth me into brighter spirits, as thou art in addition given special permit by Sister Gwen and that thy true king hast returned to bringeth peace to our land, thou shall have thy bearings free of charge."

"What?" Dreamfinder said in reaction to his befuddlement. "But I'm not-" But Rachel buts in, covers Dreamfinder's mouth, and intervenes, finishing the conversation off.

"He's just a little shaken from that battle he had fought years ago." Rachel rushes with a guilty smile. "He's forgotten a couple things about himself; minor things, but don't worry. He'll be right as rain in no time."

"Is that so?" said the weaponsmith. "Thy suffering by thy enemy's hands must hath been the most disastrous. That would maketh sense in fact. Therefore, thou must not remember much of thy reign as King of England. I must beseech thee to find some shelter for slumber before ye should begin a most wonderous adventure."

"Sure! Will do! Thanks for the weapons. Bye!"

And with that, Rachel pushes Dreamfinder away from the weaponsmith's shop with Figment and Algar following them outside. When they got far enough away from the shop, Dreamfinder struggles to open his mouth again, pulling Rachel's hands away for him to take a breath, despite how gross and foggy and stuffy the air is at this moment.

"What was that for?" Dreamfinder bitterly asks. "You know I'm not the king they think I am. Why did you lie to him?"

"If we tell them you're not their king, not only would we not get any of the benefits a king has, such as the permit by Sister Gwen for our weapons, but we'd be destroying the hope these people have been craving for since the real king's death. So long as they believe you are the king, their spirits should be lifting up and hopefully, much faster. Believe me, I'm not in favor of lying to these people of who and what we are either, but we just need to keep this charade long enough until we find this Arthur person, bring him back, and stop this curse."

"Rachel, I-"

"I'm sorry! I really am. I hate lying to people, too, but this is the only way right now. Just trust me on this."

Looking into her desperate eyes, it was only a matter of seconds before Dreamfinder remembered what he had promised Rachel last night on the Dream Machine: no more threats, no more yelling, no more distrust. He's wanted this girl at his side from the beginning and he was not going to let this second chance pass up. Still, lying to the people of England, his England, the land he was born in at a much later time period than right now, is not how he wants to start this adventure. And the guilty, sad, unpleasing look on Rachel's face and in her eyes are making it much worse. He may remain angry and upset for the time being, but confidently this will wash over in moment's time.

"Alright." said Dreamfinder with a defeated sigh. "I'll let it go. But I don't like it."

"ALRIGHTY THEN!" Figment shouted. "Let's go find the king!"

"WARHOOOO!" Algar howls happily, as he flies a few 360° loops in the air with his small feathery wings.

"Sure, but where do we start?" Rachel asks.

"Sister Gwen said the king was sighted in Camlann by the River Bourne." said Dreamfinder, given his knowledge on the whereabouts of each town and city in England. "I should know where it is, but with the Earth always changing throughout time, the geography in this time period may be different."

"That's a chance we'll have to take, right?" said Figment with an assuring positivity.

"Indeed. And hopefully, this whole thing won't take too long. We have to get back and repair the Dream Machine as soon as possible."

"I wouldn't worry about that right now." said Rachel. "So long as we keep Uncle Eli's book safely in hand and all of our other valuables locked away where no one can get them, we should be fine."

"If you say so, my dear." Dreamfinder confidently says with a smile. "Now let's grab our horse and get going before it starts getting dark."

"Yippee!" Figment cheers.

The Dreamfinder walks off ahead with Algar and Figment following him cheerfully with happy spirits. Rachel, meanwhile, takes a look back at the horizon from a distance within the town of Amesbury, hoping for the best possible thing to happen along the way regarding the full repairments of their beloved flying vessel.

"Yuna…" she mutters quietly, "…you'd better hurry up and finish the Dream Machine soon. I'm not sure how long this adventure may last, but I have a bad feeling about all of this."

And then with a sudden unexpected pain scorching somewhere within her chest, perhaps beside her heart, Rachel tries to resist letting out another outburst like before when she was being transformed into this glowing white thing. Fearing that it would only worry Dreamfinder, Figment and Algar again, she manages to keep her stinging pain quiet. A few feet away from her, she sees a well. She runs over to the well, clutching the shirt on her chest by her right hand, and looks down into it. There is some little water left in the well, which isn't nearly enough to quench the thirsts of all the villagers in Amesbury. She peers down below, but instead of her own reflection she sees the reflection of Fantasia, the white spirit figure whom had just possessed her for a brief moment earlier that day, waving at her with its eyes closed with some degree of cheerful glee, much to Rachel's unprecedented horror, and disappeared from sight. She pulls herself away from the well and runs back to Dreamfinder and the others, finding them as the only comfort she could ever have in this time of stress. 

"A very, very bad feeling." Rachel gasping to herself.

 

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Deep within the shadows of the forest in which the mad knight had been trapped inside since he lost sight of Dreamfinder and his company did he spend riding on his horse continuously, raging with anger and screaming with discontent. The darkness has blinded this knight without a trace of light to reveal neither a path nor even an obstacle. He bumps and crashes upon trees, branches, pits and rocks, which fuels his madness and irritation more and more by the minute. He had lost his own sword somewhere within the forest, so now he relies more on his strength of brawn, pushing and ripping the branches apart from the trees they grow from to open a path. But it had proven fruitless to do so since there is still not a sight or soul to see or destroy. This knight is all alone. Alone with his anger with no one to cast his hatred upon.

But not far from where he and his horse stood, a bright glow has illuminated deep within the heart of the forest. At last, a blessing of sight to see! The knight chases after it, jumping over and ducking under every outgrown root, bush, branch, and rock, eager to find the source of this strangely-lit phenomenon. Upon arriving, the light glows much brighter. Rays of this light are spreading throughout the forest, blinding the knight upon arriving. It's enough to fill the entire forest and shoot up straight through the trees, through the clouds and into the skies and the heavens. In the midst of this light stands a portal opening up. The hole inside is pitch black like a black hole with bright static sparks of electricity branching along in its circular cycle. Leaves and twigs were being levitated and swirled all of the atmosphere, as if they are being sucked into the portal itself into God knows where. But as this happened, the mad knight watches the portal open wider as a shadowed silhouette steps out of the portal. He could not make out who or what is coming out. In fear of this, he tries to draw his sword but remembers he had already just lost it. So the knight draws up a sturdy branch, defending himself with the ripped-up splinters pointing directly at the portal. A foot steps out of the portal first, then the other, until the entire body has safely made it through the portal before it closes. 

Smaller and smaller the portal closes. And when the last of the sparks had completely died out, a gust of wind exploded outwards from its epicenter, whooshing away everything it touched by force. Trees have toppled over one another like dominoes, bushes have flown into the air being blown tens of yards away, and all of the branches have been built into giant piles that have stretched to nearly fifty feet tall! The light shining from the cloud-covered sun shoots directly down through the atmosphere on top of this location, blinding the knight harshly due to his extended period in the darkness for some time, no thanks to Dreamfinder and his friends. The knight then rubs his eyes furiously in his pain, but once he has finally gotten a better view of his surroundings, he finds himself in the presence of yet another strangely dressed man. 

This man in particular is dressed in a white shirt covered by a two-piece suit of gray and a black tie with golden-edged circles. A long white lab coat pretty much covers everything this man wears. His shoes are polished and dark brown, to what seems a lot more appropriate to wear in his own place of origin rather than in the burnt, lit up, cratered remains of a medieval forest. His dirty-blonde hair is curled up, pulling back upward from his forehead and frizzy in all directions from the trip through that mysterious portal. The middle-aged wrinkles he bears on his face define his facial character: stuffy, rigid, and slightly worn in some ways. Especially around his eyes and his cheeks. Whatever this man is going through, it's tiring him out quote a bit.

"Uh, hello?" said this man. "Oh, I'm sorry to intrude on whatever it is you were doing, but I-"

"Bah!" the mad knight shouts in a voice so distorted from natural tone. "Whoso dareth to come into mine presence and blindeth me as such in manner? Speak now of ye name or thy head shalt be mine own!"

"I-I-I-I-I am Nigel Channing of, uh…the Floridian…Plain?"

"Floridian Plain, didst thou sayeth? I have never heard such a name of such a place. Thou surest must beeth from some uncharted land away from the English soil. What be thou doeth in my dominion?"

"I-I-I was sent here by my master, L-L-Lord Nebulus. I seek to find a man, woman, and dragon who has a book that contains secrets that could lead to my master's demise in their favor. Y-y-y-y-you wouldn't by any chance have seen such people passing by, have you?"

"I have seen such people." the knight answers. "Twas those folk whom I hadst just encount'r'd just hours ago and hath left me strand'd in this godf'rsaken forest. Those gents shall payeth dearly f'r what those gents has't done.

"Who are you, good sir knight?" Channing asks.

"I am not a 'sir,' I am a mistress!"

In revealing its identity to Dr. Channing, the knight pulls off its helmet in front of him where, true to its words, the knight is no man, but a woman! Her face is undeniably beautiful, despite the few small wrinkles that have formed to due her age. There must be something that is helping her face stay youthful at all times. Her silky jet black hair flows down like a cascading stream on black ink that could easily blotch off whatever source of light would dare come through. Not even the sun's light would ever stand a chance of lasting so long to shine upon her head with little to no success. But the most enchanting feature she bears are her eyes, blue as the deepest of the Atlantic seas that surrounds the Old World she knows. One good long look into them and the looker would find it most difficult to look away. There is so much blueness in those eyes and how she uses them to see people she unleashes an icy gripping lash that can whip out any presence of warmth and bring winter to her surroundings within seconds. The shape of this woman's figure is well-formed at best, specially crafted to create the ideal model every woman should have and be praised and worshipped for. If you were to take the armor off of her and put it aside for a moment, you can easily tell that she is a tall five foot and nine inch height and a weight of a hundred and twelve pounds. The horse she is mounted upon is colored to match her own black mane. Twice as large as the averaged-sized horse, especially in this time period, seeing as how the evolution and genetics of most animals may still be in great effect, it raises the female knight twice as high as any knight would ride on his horse.

This feminine knight, with a stern look on her face as strict as anyone can see, so stern it has no description let alone it provides a mysterious yet foreboding vibe upon sight, she stares down coldly at Nigel Channing, observing his appearance. Channing, on the other hand, has placed himself in an awkward situation where in the presence of this violently dressed female knight, as beautiful as she seems to be, he ought to stay on her good side, if any, should he wish to not have his head decapitated upon first impression.

"Oh!" Channing gasps to his realization. "Well now, that certainly explains some things."

"What things?" the female knight asks. "What doest mine own feminity pray pardon me to thee while I am did dress in an arm'r yond suits more likely on a man?"

"Uh…it…explains how you would be much skinnier compared to most men. I-I-I-I-In a good way, if you understand?"

"As strange as thy language portrays, thou speaketh very boldly. Especially in mine own presence as queen of this realm."

"And which queen do I have the pleasure of meeting before me right now?" Channing asks, hoping to keep this conversation as cool as possible.

"I am Morgan, Queen of England, Mistress of misfortune and sorcery. And this is my steed." said the knight, whose name is Morgan. "This sir, who bears the image of my brother, this mistress, and this dragon…bid me. What business is't these people has't here yond gives those folk the right to treadeth upon uninvit'd?"

"They have this book, though I suppose books haven't been invented yet. Books are sort of like thick stacks of paper with information bound together within covers instead of rolled up sheets of parchment. And in this particular book they have, they contain certain secrets about my master and are trying to reveal the secret that could lead to my master's demise, as well as a certain spiritual being that could either give him great power or destroy him. Some things that could affect greatly to this entire world most ungraciously if they are not to be stopped. If you are the Morgan I imagine you must be, aside from being queen, I humbly request an assistance in ridding them of their mission before they find a way to destroy my lord."

"F'r such a feat, it wouldst did cost thee. Though, I seeth not how thee couldst possibly handsomely payeth me f'r mine own s'rvices, seeing as how thee behold aught but a noble or knight."

But what can he give her? What could Nigel possibly give this Morgan person to win her trust. He has no money on him. And even if he does, what good would that do? He knows the American currency is not accountable in the medieval ages, let alone not have been established yet. Of course he doesn't have any gold, silver or other treasures to give her; he just got here. There is something familiar about Morgan, though. Something about a certain story, perhaps a legend, he had heard of once before a long time ago. Was there a king involved in there, too? And some knights with a particular knight going after another queen? But then it clicked to him. He knows who this Morgan person really is. The incredible coincidence of coming across a woman with that name somewhere within the middle ages are quite fortunate. But Morgan being queen? Queen of England? That can't be right. Something is wrong with the story. Then again, the events that had taken place in this time period may have been different compared to the stories he had read or listened as a child. Even western historians would kill to know whatever real information they can get out of this situation whether or not the story ended triumphantly and dramatically affect history.

"Did you ever have a son?" Channing asks. "Or any children at all?" 

"Yea, I hadst a son. That gent wast hath killed by mine own broth'r four years ago in battle, but coequal that gent wast unable to killeth mine own broth'r then, but only scar that gent with wounds. It wast then i curs'd this land with mine own charm to all of those who were loyal to mine own wretch'd broth'r and defied mine own son's reigneth of pow'r. This land shall not beest reliev'd of the curse until mine own subjects boweth bef're me with the loyalty I des'rve. Why doth thou asketh?"

"What if I told you I know how to bring people back from the dead?"

"Bringeth backeth the dead? How can that beest? How can ye possibly perf'rm such a feat?"

Indeed. How can he do it? How can Nigel Channing possibly bring back the dead? There is no possible way Channing could do it. He is a man of science! A practical man who even though his studies have brought him in pursuit to figuring out what imagination is all about, he puts aside everything relating to fanciful dreamy phenomenon in place of realistic factual intuition. But Channing apparently has a something going on up his sleeve. Perhaps there is a lot more to him than meets the eye.

"My master, Nebulus," Channing said, "has granted me the power to bestow animation on inanimate objects. With this, I can animate any feature I desire to do anything at my behest irrefutably to the height of my greatest potential!"

He says this with great confidence only to receive a confused look from Morgan. It's clear that whatever scientific statistic Dr. Channing had said made no complete sense to her. Both magic and science have never come together hand in hand in this time period, so it was only fairly common to underestimate these possibilities in such occasions. And the advanced English tongue coming from Nigel in hopes of giving a better understanding is not helping him out any better.

"Uh…to clarify," Nigel tries again, "I have the power to bring back the dead and make them do my bidding without question while I stay at the height of power."

"Thy way of speaking is as strange as these people I has't did chase." said Morgan.

"But you see where I'm getting at, don't you, your majesty? If you help me stop these threats from taking over this land and defeat my master, I can bring back your son to make it happen. In fact…I might even convince my master to make you, not a queen, but perhaps… a goddess."

A goddess, he says? That word has sparked a look of interest in Queen Morgan. To be a queen and rule the Land of the British with all she has: a throne, a crown, a population of subjects to command and victimize, is one thing. To be a goddess, though, that's something else. With that much power, she could spread her hand across the Old World and rule everything within its shadow. She'll be unstopable! Her eyebrow raises up as she glares down at Dr. Channing with little suspicion, observing whatever bluff there must be within this man's eyes. But Nigel stays sharp. He stares Queen Morgan back at her with a stern look, giving her the impression of how serious he really is. And he is! He's super serious about it. If he can grant something this big to a mortal, imagine the ultimate power Nebulus must really have to even give him the right and the position to propose such an offer. All this just to help this pathetically peculiar man retrieve a stack of parchments within covered bounds and capture this spirit? Morgan dismounts her horse and approaches Channing with a smirk forming on her lips. She seems convinced, much to Channing's satisfaction.

"I'm listening." she said.

 

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A new adventure rises as Rachel, Figment, Dreamfinder and Algar set off on their quest to find the missing king. They leave Amesbury behind and ride southwest for Camlann as Sister Gwen had told them to go. They ride on Basil's horse, they as in Dreamfinder while Figment, Algar, and Rachel all fly together above and beside him. Being the only person out of the group who cannot fly as good as they do, added that he cannot fly at all, has left Dreamfinder pretty jealous. Still, he casts it aside and takes in the pleasure of his friends having fun throughout this trip. Especially with Rachel, who seems to resemble the likes of an angel flying with the wind. She has no wings nor robe nor halo, but to Dreamfinder, it didn't matter. His eyes light up and widen at the sight of her gliding about and smiling down at him along the way. The sight of her going about her way has allowed his heart to flutter faster than Figment's wings, enough to make him want to jump off the horse and grab her in his arms. As usual, he refrains for now. Business before pleasure, they have a mission to follow and now is not the time to fully embrace the grasp of love.

But after a while, for some reason, Rachel has grown weak from flying through her imagination power. She lowers herself slowly towards the ground. Her eyes close halfway, her arms dangling below, her hands, legs and feet are falling asleep and tingling, and her body becoming heavy like lead. And the burden of her new equipment and this downpour pressuring and weighing her down is doing everything but helping her. Algar notices his creator feeling under the weather and calls out to Figment, who then nudges his elbow against Dreamfinder's shoulder for his attention, to help. Once again, as Figment and Algar both swoop in to catch their weak friend before she has hit the ground, the Dreamfinder reaches his hands out from his horse and gently grips onto Rachel's torso and wraps her with the blue jacket he had just changed out of and has her resting her head upon his chest and sleeping in his arms. The constant jumping from the horse's galloping has made it uncomfortable for Rachel to sit on, but with Dreamfinder around to hold her tenderly and with Algar and Figment flying around them like they are on guard, at least she feels safe. Her softly beating heart is starting to feel a very strange but fulfilling warmth inside enveloping her like she is being consumed by it. Her heavy eyes look up to the underside of Dreamfinder's bearded chin.

Imagine, at a time when Rachel was feeling her most awful on one of the worst days of her life, she begs to God to send someone to her and claim her and help her forget everything that has happened; all of the worst moments of her life would be completely wiped away from her mind as if they were only just horrific nightmares. But instead of an angel with wings, a halo, or a white robe with its hem draping down like curtains with a bright heavenly light, it is Dreamfinder himself who's come to her with Figment at his side. From the very start of this adventure, he has given her all of the kindness he could give her and since then he's done everything in his power protect her and help her forget everything from her previous life. And Rachel has come to learn so much about this man, this kind, wonderful, brilliant man, and whimsical with his own dragon flying about to top it all off, as much as he has come to learn a lot about her. She's realized that every time she's slept, it was always Dreamfinder who's been holding her all throughout the night and providing her all of the warmth he has given her…all from his heart. It's probably some dream power energy in effect from his own sense of magic that is soothing her, or perhaps it is just the simple, scientific, physical body contact that is causing some kind of friction onto her skin. Then again, with them being in contact, Rachel has been having more sweet dreams than she's ever had before and all them have to do with being in Dreamfinder's embrace, treating with all of the unimaginable love he could give her. Love…love…pure true love. Could it possibly be that Blarion Mercurial, the Dreamfinder, has brought her all this way simply for the sake of having her at his side for him to love for eternity like he's some kind of Prince Charming sweeping her off her feet to his castle in paradise like she's Snow White from the Disney movie? Considering the hints, possibly. But in all of this, she decides to keep these thoughts to herself. For all she knows, she could be completely wrong in her theory and make things awkward for her and Dreamfinder suppose he thinks differently of her. Still, it's a nice thought. And for the time being, she decides to embrace the warm, loving feeling of his heart caressing her soul and lulling her into a sweet sleeping bliss.

The ride has taken many many hours to achieve. The head towards the land of Somerset where past it should be the supposed deathplace of the king, Camlann. Through forests and meadows and past valleys and mountains; not once have they stopped to take a break. They are determined to find the truth about what had happened here and what had caused this curse to fall upon the land that they had made it top priority to figure out. Hence having to put off the search for the geodesic sphere for a while. Granted also that Sister Gwen was not able to disclose any information about it when they had just talked.

Suddenly, the clouds up in the sky have darkened quite dramatically. They collide together, causing an uproar of thunder with lightning flashing and clashing brightly and violently. Rain starts pouring down hard like raging waterfalls from the heavens, drenching everything it touches. Dreamfinder and his friends, including Rachel who had just woken up in her shock from the thunder, caught in the midst of this, have found it fruitless to try to cover themselves on account that every part of their bodies have been completely soaked. They rush through the storm, desperately trying to find shelter, but there are hardly any trees or shacks or caves to take cover.

"This is too much! Even for us!" Rachel shouts, who is nearly blinded by the rainwater dripping over her eyes.

"We need to get out of this storm!" shouted Dreamfinder. "We'll catch pneumonia this way if we stay out here!"

"Over there!" yelled Figment.

Pointing across the distance through this horrendous storm, the young dragon spots a large, dark-silhouetted structure sitting far ahead of them. Its gloomy, foreboding form is intimidating enough to look at, but considering the position the entire group is in, all drenched and soaked and tired from this long trip away from their beloved Dream Machine where it was nice, cozy and warm to sleep in, they have no choice but to head straight towards it. 

"Not a real looker, if you ask me!" said Rachel with uneasiness creeping up inside her.

"It will have to do." said Dreamfinder. "Let's go!"

So Dreamfinder clicks his heels to the horse's sides and quickly rides ahead of the others, clinging onto Rachel to cover her from the storm to the best of his ability. In the process, the rain is falling harder and harder on them like they can caught in an instant flood and never get out. But with much grace building in their hearts, they arrive at the foot of the structure in time before the storm started to get worse.

This structure is a castle, really a castle! Ominous and dark, its appearance is enough to scare any bystander from coming any closer to it. The drawbridge that leads inside is lowered for clear passage, but looks like it has been deteriorating and rusting for what must be a considerably long time. Some stones that have been stack on top of one another have fallen from the eroding process and crumbled down to dune-like piles of grains and sand. Weeds and vines have branched out, overcoming every inch of the walls outside of the castle. The moat underneath the drawbridge is completely filled up due to the heavy rains that are pouring down, so there is no telling whether or not there might be any crocodiles lurking about in there. Given that it's both dark and deep with water, no one wants to take the chance of actually checking for any. This place looks like a complete dump! But for a castle this big, there must be an insane amount of rooms to explore or better yet, sleep in, if they are dry enough. 

They hurry over the drawbridge, critically in need of getting inside before they can get themselves sick. Algar is already sneezing bad enough as it is and Figment is beginning to catch a cold as well. There is a stable, abandoned and dark, but at least it is dry enough to store Basil's horse in and has enough hay in the stocks to feed on. Meanwhile, Dreamfinder, with Rachel cuddled safely in his arms, along with Figment and Algar flying beside him are frantically trying to find a safe room to stay in. No matter where they go, the rooms and halls all resemble each other quite identically with its abandoning atmosphere. The rooms are dark, not a single shred of light source can be seen anywhere. Tapestries and such fabrics that hang on the wall are torn and eaten by moths. There are cobwebs forming at each corner of all of the rooms. Glasses are broken, chairs and tables are tossed aside empty and untouched, varieties of metals are tossed about like salads, rusting away from their prime; everything in this place is a total mess!

"Oooh…this place gives me the creeps!" said a shivering Figment.

"Re roo!" said Algar, as if saying, "Me too!"

"It looks like this castle's been abandoned for a while." said Dreamfinder.

Finally, the Dreamfinder finds a large bedroom where even though it looks like it has seen better days, the size itself would be relevant enough to make it out as the king's chambers. That is, if a king has ever lived here, to begin with. There is a large bed, large enough to fit almost ten men packed together side by side like sardines. It's a little dusty, but it looks comfortable enough to sleep in. An empty fireplace sits across the room with a small stack of wood beside it that, if lit all at once, would last an entire night of warmth. The curtains look like they are still in decent condition. Everybody knew what they had to do here: Figment sets off to close the curtains from having any more rain coming in, Algar sets up the wood in the fireplace with Figment's help in lighting it up, much to constant failure to bring the fire about without covering his face with ashes until he finally got it right, while Dreamfinder carefully sets Rachel down on the bed and tucks her in like a child. The sweetness in his eyes, watching this beautiful girl sleeping soundly, has now filled his head with such sweet fantasies of what the future might bring for them both. He simply cannot help in restraining himself for her any longer and God knows how long this will continue to last.

"Sleep tight, Rachel." said Dreamfinder softly, tenderly placing a kiss on her head and pets her delicately. Not only has this kiss-on-the-forehead thing become a thing of love from him, it's become routine. And he believes Rachel is starting to gradually accept it as kind gesture at best. "Sweet dreams."

"Blair…" she mutters, "I-I-I feel so…weak."

"You need rest. Get a good night's sleep. We have a long journey ahead of us tomorrow."

"Blair, can you…mmm…never mind. Forget it. It's stupid."

"What? What is it? Tell me."

"Can you…can you tell me a story?"

"Of course." he said with a warm smile curled beneath his mustache. "What would you like to hear?"

"…Can you make one up for me?"

"Alright, let's see…hmm…once there was a princess who was beautiful, fair and kind, but horribly misunderstood. She had lived a sad life where everything she had tried to do for the good of others, she had received little to no praise for it at all. She did all she could do to give herself hope for a better future, dreaming of fairies and knights, of kings and queens, and of gods and other strange beasts who would serve her kindly with love and wisdom and protection and fill her dreams with sweet bliss. There came a time, however, when the princess would grow into adulthood and forget her sweet fantasies just so she could fit in with the rest of the world and be accepted for who she is. But the world she had strived to live in peacefully has turned into a dark and gloomy vision of her fears that have come to life. It had forbidden this poor princess to see the full potential she has in herself, making her believe that she was never truly a princess at all, but a fear-driven girl alone with a heart of gray." 

As Blair tells the story, both he and Rachel notice a faint pressure on the bed sheets. Both Figment and Algar lay comfortably on the bed, eager, but calm, to listen to the rest of Blair's story. 

"Then one day," Blair continued, "she encountered…a wizard, who had a dragon for a companion and a deep love for traveling to beautiful places and seeing things both natural and unnatural in more ways than one. Upon first sight, the wizard beheld the poor princess like a goddess and has taken it upon himself to love, cherish and worship her as she is. The wizard stealthily sneaks into the princess' chamber and sees her crying in her sleep, making him feel no hesitation to sit at her side in comfort, marveling at her beauty. When the princess woke, she was astonished. Never had she seen a wizard, as well as any kind of man, like this one. The wizard smiled and said to her in a calm, loving voice, 'Don't be afraid. Come with me and I will show you and give you a most wonderous kingdom of vast flowery meadows and a castle of gold and pearls where you can be free and safe for eternity.' So the princess agreed and decided to run away together with the wizard and his dragon.

They went on many grand adventures and have encountered great dangers along the way, but the wizard had always promised his princess that he would always protect her and keep her safe from all harm. The many realms they have traveled to were inhabited by the same fantasies the princess had once dreamt of and they all came to her, welcoming her warmly like she was always one of their own. She was finally happy. As many heroes there were in these realms, there were also many savage villains who sought out to do everything in their power to tear these adventurers apart. But they stuck together and overcame all of the obstacles that came across them to the end.

Along the way, they've met…a gentle gryphon, who swore to protect the princess with all of his might and keep her company always."

"How does the story end, Dreamfinder?" Rachel weakly whispers.

"Yeah, Dreamfinder. How?" Figment asks eagerly with Algar nodding his head beside him.

"…They reached the land the wizard had promised the princess to live in." Blair tenderly said. "The wizard made her his queen and they lived happily ever after."

"It's funny…" Rachel openly says, "…it's funny how many great stories are made based on facts…and how many great writers sometimes try to sugarcoat the harsher details that happen. It's only once in a blue moon when a real happily ever after comes."

The Dreamfinder looks down at Rachel with much sympathy, but heartbreak deep inside himself. Based on what she's been through, it's obvious how she has always been denied every chance of a "happily-ever-after" moment throughout the course of her life. It's enough to wonder if Rachel has ever once smiled before or since Uncle Eli's disappearance. And from the look of things, it's relevant that Rachel's newfound weakness may have come from her lifelong battle for acceptance, wearing her down with every blow she has endured that has denied her of such bliss. He then turns to Figment, who in return nods back in agreeance assuring that the both of them knows what this poor woman has been through and how Blair once, himself, maybe twice, had felt out of place in life.

"Time to sleep." murmured Dreamfinder gingerly. 

He covers Rachel more with the bed sheets, determining to make her feel warm and comfortable from the storm outside. With one last kiss on her forehead for the night, the girl closes her eyes finally at the sweet sounds of Dreamfinder's voice encouraging her to fall into her slumber. Sweet dreams await her and Dreamfinder has once again provided her the passage to get there. Algar slowly climbs over to Rachel's side and nestles himself down in her arms, giving her something to hold in place of a pillow. The girl smiles warmly, knowing that for a moment she is finally safe from the struggles of all worlds, whatever they are, wherever they are, whichever they would intend to do to her. 

Figment, being a loyal imaginary friend and companion to the end, approaches Dreamfinder and jumps into his arms. The Dreamfinder holds his creation tenderly like and infant as he slowly walks over to the fireplace and sits down on the chair by the fire. He takes the blue coat he loaned to Rachel and then wraps it around Figment, determined to keep his little flying friend nice and warm, too. Figment is so adorable to look at when he is almost asleep. He yawns a big yawn as he nudges the side of his face and his crocodile nose against Dreamfinder's chest, snuggling. It's certain that these two were made for each other, fated for one to dream of the other and become the best of friends until the end of time. Dreamfinder holds Figment tighter, as Rachel does with Algar, like a child in bed with his stuffed toy, clinging to it and not letting it go no matter what. He was safe with Figment and Figment was safe with him. That was all that mattered. 

Dreamfinder, with eyes half closed, stares deeply into the warm flickering fire, pondering. So much has happened recently. The near death of Rachel, added to her newfound weakness, the tragedy of Eli's disappearance, leaving behind his journal for possible clues, the birth of Algar, and the sudden appearance of a certain spirit living inside his beloved. All of these moments came at a time when their mission to find Spaceship Earth has been most important, but have lacked in the process of seeking its location. It seems that the closer he and his friends believe to be solving the entire puzzle, the more pieces are being added. And each one of those pieces doesn't seem to have a definitive shape to fit in, not to mention a perfect picture to establish. This case has become far too confusing to comprehend and he needs answers.

"How do you know about Fantasia, Figment?" Dreamfinder asked in a throaty mutter.

"What's that?" Figment yawns.

"Fantasia. You and Algar seemed to recognize it with that name almost every time it has taken possession over Rachel. And it's clear that I've never seen or heard of its name or its form before. How do you know about it?"

"To be honest, I don't really know. It just…it just came out of instinct, I guess."

"Instinct? How so?"

"It's this feeling…that feeling I got when… You remember when we saw that little spark imprisoned inside that capsule Dr. Channing had back at the Academy and then at the Imagination Pavilion in Epcot? How when we were in first contact, I was able to understand what it was saying?"

"Yes?"

"That's just it. When I see Fantasia, I feel like I was either once part of it, or it was once part of me. I don't know how to describe it, but I get the feeling that Fantasia might be the most…"

"The most what?" Dreamfinder asks, eager to hear Figment's reply.

"I don't know." said Figment with defeat. "That's as far as I got. But I can tell you that this Fantasia person is something big. And I mean really big!"

"I see… That actually worries me quite a bit. For Rachel, to say the least. I don't know what it is, but I suppose the important thing to do is keep her well protected and support her when she needs it most. Hopefully then, we'll be able to solve this 'Fantasia' mystery."

"We'll figure it out somehow, Dreamfinder. After all, our imagination has been there for us to solve a problem and it hasn't let us down once yet."

"Of course." Dreamfinder wraps whatever is left of his jacket around his little dragon, holds Figment's steer-horned head closer to his heart and whispers, "Sleep well, Figment."

"Goodnight, Dreamfinder." Figment sighs softly, closing his eyes and sleeps tenderly.

Looking over to Rachel, after confirming his imaginary friend is sleeping safely in his arms, he smiles warmly at her posture. The way she is sleeping upon that bed with Algar has broken his heart only to be reborn in a blissful frenzy. He sweetly whispers quietly to her in hopes of her in hearing him and knowing his presence is always near.

 

Sweet dreams, my princess…


	6. Chapter 6

"Thou must telleth more to me of thy strange gent, dragon, and wench, Sir Nigel of the Floridian Plain."

As they are walking through a gray-grassed valley under a vast sky of storm clouds, Dr. Nigel Channing and Morgan, the Queen of England, discuss their dilemmas. Channing had just arrived into Medieval England upon Morgan in hopes of trying to rid the Dreamfinder and his friends from further pursuing in defeating Nebulus. Though, Nigel has explained how threatening they can be in this mission, the position he is in at the presence of a very powerful monarch who can potentially kill him ten-to-one in both strength and brutality without effort has kept him quiet in revealing more about who Nebulus really is and what he is capable of. Granted that he has enough knowledge to outsmart the queen if needed and bravely enough in his bones, he has no armor or any sort of protection at the moment to assure his safety. Especially since he had promised her the position of a goddess that even Nebulus has no power to grant. He can only imagine to dire consequences he'd be facing once Queen Morgan finds out he lied to her. For now, he needs to play this game safely. 

"W-w-well, let's start with the Dreamfinder and Figment." said Channing. "That gent and dragon I've mentioned. Th-th-they have the power to conjure up anything they can think of to come to life, and I mean anything! If they'd think of a giant boulder that would be large enough to infiltrate a castle, poof! It can happen. If they can bring about a large ferocious beast to be summoned by their minds, it could tear you limb from limb within seconds! If they would imagine themselves walking on water or on clouds by any means necessary, they can do it! If they can-"

"I get it!" Morgan impatiently shouts. "If it be true those gents art as pow'rful as thou sayeth those gents art, then those gents art by all means the primary targeteth to defeat. Now what about the wench?"

"The wench? Well...I've had a bit of a quarrel with her over the course of time. Her name is Rachel. When she was a child, my working partner had chosen her to help with our experiments and had become the main focus of our work, much to my disappointment. Then shortly afterwards, my partner decided to cancel everything we've worked for in favor of her. I got angry and summoned my master to take them both out, but the girl got away and I hadn't seen her for many years. But then recently, she had arrived with the Dreamfinder and Figment in my last workplace, messed up my work once again and got me fired from my job. I almost did away with her then, but she got away before I could catch her again. It's clear that she is trying to get revenge on me for what I had done as I am now trying to get her back for what she did."

"And f'r what reasoneth is th're thy partn'r hadst hath decided to has't h'r joineth thy company and cancel all thee has't w'rk'd f'r?"

"It...it's hard to explain really. That is, my partner never really told me specifically what the matter was, but he said it had plenty to do with Rachel's safety. On one side, it's understandable; despite what I had done recently, children should never have to get hurt by whatever means, especially by us. But, oh, how enraged I was when I heard him say all of this for the first time. After everything we had done, everything we had been through to get so far and for what? Because of a small child who had no business in getting involved with what we were working on? Granted, I may have been selfish but to have my entire life's work and dreams decimated before me, Eli, my partner, he might as well have ripped my whole heart right of me and be done with it. It's all because of her! It's all because of her..."

"It seemeth this wench hast done a lot m're damageth on thee than this Dreamfind'r and Figment p'rsons. If it be true this wench is the main causeth of thy despair, then we shalt has't to taketh her out and punisheth her sev'rely at which hour the lady is high-lone, but only aft'r we taketh out these oth'r two persons."

There was total silence for a moment. The words that Queen Morgan had said has Channing's nerves completely shaking with both fear and astonishment. Cold and harsh as they sounded, she might just as well be a dictator selfishly spreading vicious terror to the people of England. She probably is. And if so, then imagine if she were doing the same for the people of England in the present time, the modern time period both Channing, Dreamfinder and Figment are from, then things would have been completely miserable for them all.

In spite of knowing it was Rachel who had caused most of Dr. Channing's pain one way or another, it seems that Queen Morgan must have more beef going on against the Dreamfinder. But why? Other than losing her within the forest they ran into shortly before she had met with Dr. Channing, the Dreamfinder hasn't done anything wrong to make her totally hate him...has he?

"Y-y-your majesty?" Channing stutters. "Y-you said that the Dreamfinder's face resembles a lot like your brother? Who is he?"

"Mine own broth'r," said Morgan, "who is't bears the visage of thy Dreamfinder's, is Arthur. Bef're I hadst taken ov'r, that gent wast once the king of England. His ambitions of ruling this land w're not of mine own liking. If it be true aught, those rules has't ang'r'd me so deeply. I hadst at each moment did hate mine own broth'r yond I hadst hath sent mine own son to killeth that gent in mine own stead, but that gent hadst did fail and mine own broth'r hadst since did lay wound'd and asleep in mine own owneth kingdom und'r mine own guard. But once I hadst seen thy Dreamfind'r galavanting through the fields moments ago, I bethought Arthur hadst did escape mine own prison. At least I knoweth yond hast not hath happened. Then again, shouldst this Dreamfinder, this Figment, and this Rachel thou speaketh of, somehow findeth mine own broth'r to healeth that gent and bringeth that gent backeth those gents might likely turneth ev'ryone in England against me."

"Th-th-then by all means, we should make our way to find your son and bring him back as q-q-quickly as possible. W-w-where was it exactly he died at?" 

"In Camlann. That beeth the deathplace of mine own son. And the landeth across the wat'r is mine own kingdom, Avalon, wh're I keepeth mine own broth'r und'r locketh and key. Nay doubteth yond those gents shall tryeth to bringeth Arthur backeth and then confronteth me f'r mine own coronet. Those gents might not but beest ceased at all did cost. But f'r anon, we wilt traveleth to Camlann and revive mine own son if 't be true we art to succeedeth."

"And how far exactly is Camlann, if I may ask?"

"It shalt taketh us three hours by horseback. Come! Mount on thy h'rse and alloweth's beest off! There is nay time to wasteth!"

"Mount?!" Channing exclaims. "B-b-b-but I don't have a horse!"

"Hmm...so it seems." said Morgan observantly. "Very well. I shalt provideth thee a h'rse to rideth f'r the time being."

In a split second and with a wave of Queen Morgan's hand, a mist of blackish-green clouds appears, forming together into a dark and large horse-like being before the jittery scientist. Its eyes gleam a brightly high-saturated green curled angrily by the brow and staring down below at the doctor's inferior state. Its body is so black you wouldn't be able to see the curves and lines that would define where its legs start on its torso. The color of the mane and tail on this beast resembles much like the mist the queen had just conjured, flowy and waving like a flag made with dark, long, thick threads of silk. As far as the size goes, it is average sized at best, but it's just large enough for Nigel to mount on and travel without a problem. But since the horse can more or less smell fear, it all depends on whether it will listing to Dr. Channing or not. The horse turns its head to Channing and snorts at him with spite. The breath coming from the horse's mouth is making the poor doctor sweat an oceanful of puddles below him unceasingly. And the worst part is, granted that it's made specially by the Queen of England, it's all his.

"Uhh...thank you." Dr. Channing hesitantly assures. "He's uhh...he's magnificent-looking."

"Now cometh forth and let us ride in adventure to smiteth our foes!" Queen Morgan shouts with hearty confidence as she trots ahead on her own horse away from Nigel.

Intimidated by the horse's menacing appearance, the doctor struggles himself to climb onto its back. It's possible that Dr. Channing has never ridden on a horse in a long time, let alone not have ridden one at all. There are hardly any horses to be seen anywhere in Orlando, Florida, nor even the hustling and bustling city of modern-day London. At least, not since the early twentieth century. Back then, the earliest motor cars were on the rise of mass production and horse carriages would still be around to transport people to their destinations. Nowadays, in Nigel's time, everyone relies more on electric vehicles, airplanes and such to do all of the transportation efficiency. But in this time period, you'd have a super fat chance of finding any sort of transportation car-related in the medieval ages. So for now, in spite of the horse's physical state of hatred in its eyes, Nigel manages to get himself on top of its back and ride forth to catch up to the queen. In his state of regret, fear, and frustration, he mutters under his breath.

"I should have become an arboriculturist."

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A golden sunlight pierces through Rachel's eyes. Her hair glistens as some natural golden-brown strands begin to show up, her entire body has been engulfed in its tender coronal warmth, and her skin is being prickled and tickled from an unknown source. She slowly opens her eyes, believing that there may be some sort of feather or splinter poking her from the mattress she was placed in. But looking below she finds that she is no longer laying on a mattress bed, but a bed of fresh green grass and flowers. Surprised, she quickly sits up. 

Instead of sleeping inside a dreary abandoned castle, Rachel finds herself scanning with astonishment at a vast pasture of pure green as summer. The skies above her are very clear and blue. Perhaps the bluest she had ever seen in her life! And whatever incoming clouds that approach into view would easily be mistaken for a bundle of plain-colored cotton candy or a small piece of cotton from a cotton tree. Either way, they look very cotton-like. There are very few trees, birch, fur, cotton, and oak, out and about with most of them scattered like the one Rachel happens to be sitting under. This tree isn't nearly the biggest tree she had seen nor the smallest, but just big enough to be called a tree to provide her enough shade from the sun. She oversees the remainder of this meadow with wide eyes, noticing how far and wide it stretches into forever with some small graded hills playfully pushed up from the main level of the ground. Countless flower beds of wildflowers, much of which that either would not be in season or couldn't possibly exist, have grown into a super bloom to the far west of this land, while a long line of steep, snow-capped mountains in the east that drill the sky and tower over the glade. The birds above are chirping and singing happily as they fly by. No, not birds with extra strange features like horns or fur or an extra pair of legs that screech of holler like banshees or doppelgangers or unrested ghosts, but real natural birds of the Earth. Confounded, and without knowing, Rachel has found herself in an unimaginable land of paradise!

But where is she exactly? How did she get here? And where are her friends? Did they already leave the castle in England and continue forth without wanting to wake her up? That couldn't be it. This place looks far too peaceful and cheery for a cursed English soil. The skies would still have to be dull and the life that nature has would have to be almost dead, if not completely. Perhaps they have continued forth into a new world of imagination. Maybe. Then again, they wouldn't have left the current world they are roaming around in without completely solving a difficult problem the local inhabitants have been burdened with. Whatever the case is, she is here all by herself and alone. Or so she thought.

Rachel suddenly hears an indistinct cluster of laughter in the distance from the shade of her tree. She turns her head and sees a sight she had not expected to see: her kind friend and host, Blair Mercurial the Dreamfinder, with only his white shirt, red-violet dress vest and blue pants, being playfully chased by Figment and, here's the part where it gets strange, two small children! And even more strikingly, they are twins! One of them a girl and the other a boy. 

 

"Figment? Blair?" she gaspingly mutters.

The girl looks much more like Rachel given how classically beautiful he she looks with her long hair, fair cheeks, and bright smile. The only differences in that is how much curlier her hair is and gingerly-red it is colored like Dreamfinder' and the girl's eyes are an ocean blue like his. She is wearing a kind of dress that Rachel could easily tell was from the early 1900's where Dreamfinder and Figment had originated from. It's colored in a lightly tender blush pink throughout the full-length draping skirt of her Batiste dress from top to bottom and white on the laces, edges, and linings. A pink bow of the same shade tied behind her head in a playful, but fair ponytail-like bundle. She wore some white leggings underneath, but is barefoot to feel the comfort of the grass pressing against her soles with each step. She runs quickly after the Dreamfinder with glee with her supposed brother following behind her.

The boy looks much like his sister as well, therefore looking much like Rachel but more masculine if one wants to be completely clear and technical about it. His wavy ginger-brunette hair, with a long strand gently sloping upward in a curly fashion that covers his entire forehead, is more or less short that reaches to the tips of his shoulders. His eyes are brown just like Rachel's, but the spark that beams and explodes inside them has come to resemble the exact same spark of energy as the Dreamfinder himself, which is completely insane to believe considering how Dreamfinder is literally the one and only kind of a person Rachel has ever met before in her life. The boy is wearing a scully boy style of attire with his dress vest of brown, his brown suspenders, his cream coffee long socks and black shoes with white spats, which he left behind beside Rachel in his desire of feeling the tall prickly grass underneath him as well.

Both children are chasing the Dreamfinder happily with Figment the dragon laughing heartedly at their sides. Within reach, the boy jumps an incredible distance onto Dreamfinder's back, making the Dreamfinder fall down facing forward into the grass. Dreamfinder rolls a full 180 degrees upon his back when the girl, too, jumps upon his stomach flat down like a wrestler would with Figment flying above them in circles. In unison, the Dreamfinder hugs the children in his arms and they all laugh together continuously without end.

From where she sits, Rachel has taken pleasure in this gay little sight with a smile and a chuckle. Wherever these children had come from, she nevertheless had ever seen Dreamfinder so happy all at once. To see him like this is enough for Rachel to clutch her heart in hopes of retaining herself from having it melt so much with adoration. That is when she finally notices a change in herself as well. She sees that she is not wearing the usual black shoes, given that she is now completely barefoot as well, her flowy shirt and pants or her sleeveless mahogany jacket anymore, but another lovely dress fit for her size. Like the little girl's dress, her dress is a Batiste dress from the Edwardian Era. But instead of it being short like the child's, Rachel's is a bit longer. It's colored in all white with a faintly blue broach at the center of her collar and some leafy lace embroidery at the hem and both sides of her collar beneath her neck. The sleeves are long and lightly puffy with a lace cap and trim towards the end where it is abruptly cupped by a buttoned cuff. The cotton belt around her waist matches the color of the broach above: sky blue, among Rachel's favorite color shades of blue. And finally, the graceful skirt that reaches from her waist to the floor's length is tiered with trimmed white lace. Her long silky brown hair is cascading down from her head to the back of her knees like a waterfall of milk chocolate that is beautifully decorated with some of the various flowers from white and blue forget-me-nots to pale pink sweet peas. These have to be the most beautiful piece of clothing and flowers Rachel has ever worn, but where did she get them? There was no way she could have imagined them appearing themselves and wearing them at will. That's Dreamfinder's profession. Dreamfinder! Could he possibly have conjured this outfit just for her? Or is this really coming straight from Rachel's imagination?

Just as she was about to stand up and ask, another incredible sight catches her eye: two more children, along with her sleeping gryphon Algar, are lying below on a large blanket at her feet, one of them another boy and the fourth child in a cradle. They must have had a picnic earlier. The boy himself is sleeping soundly with his head resting upon an opened book. He must have been reading for some time and then dozed off after a while. Rachel can tell the sweet smile on his face indicates a bountiful of sweet dreams are filled up and dancing about within his mind. He has a sort of dreamy expression much like someone she knows. Rachel peers down at the boy's face, noticing how ginger-red his hair is, how round the glasses perch across his nose and over his eyes are, and how closely he looks to resembling Blair in the way his face looks and how he is dressed in his early twentieth century style of an olive green dress vest and brown pants. In fact, she remembered seeing the Dreamfinder's family portraits in the cabin area way back when she started her journey into imagination with him and Figment. In one of those pictures, she saw a picture of a young boy at the start of his double-digit age with his mother on her lap while she is hugging him. His appearance is almost- no, it's exactly what Blair had looked like way back then. This boy is the spitting image of Blair Mercurial as a boy! But if he is here, then how is Blair out across the field with the other two children. Rachel looks closer at the child's face, carefully removing his glasses and putting them to the side to avoid him from receiving any marks at the sides of his head, and then back at the two children in the distance. After a couple of rounds of compare and contrast, she realizes that all three of these children exactly alike! They aren't single children or twins, they're triplets! And each one of them has an identically distinct feature of both hers and Blair. But surely...no. No way! There's no way she and Dreamfinder are-

"Waaaaahhh!!!"

All of a sudden the cradle, a dry grass-woven basket, has burst with an eruption of a baby's cry. Rachel's thoughts had been interrupted and she nearly forgotten about this child. She leaves the gaze of the third sleeping child and slowly peeks over the basket where she finds a tiny movement of small legs kicking the soft creamy yellow blanket it's covered with. Under the sheet is, as expected, a baby of at least a month old or two. But unlike the rest of the children, aside from their age differences by what, ten years, this child is blessed with a head of albino white hair. The length is pretty long for the baby's age, about four and a half to five inches long! It's eyes are a clear light brown eyes like Rachel's as she watches the baby slowly open its eyes and looks up to her. With a smile on its stops crying and reaches its arms out to Rachel for her embrace. This is nuts, Rachel thought to herself! She had never dealt with this sort of thing before. Most children she had dealt with they we passing by and wanting to draw water art with her back when Rachel had her job at Disney. And even then, she didn't know how to talk to them. Still, that was then and this is now. With these kids and this baby right here, she may as well try.

Rachel hesitantly reaches her arms down to the baby and then carefully lifts it up with its head safely secure upon her left hand. She notices the bed cushion in the basket is pink, so the baby must be a girl. Rachel returns to her spot with the baby in her arms, rocking her tenderly to calm down whatever grunts or cries the baby girl would make. But the baby stayed very silent only to give the impression of feeling safe in Rachel's arms, supposing that it considers Rachel as her mother. The baby smiles big and wide, giggling happily to her heart's content and causing Rachel to laugh and smile along with her. Looking into this child's eyes was looking at herself, Rachel, in a reflection from a mirror. There is so much of Rachel that she can see and feel inside this little infant. The baby may not look exactly like the other three children, but Rachel can definitely sense a striking familiarity in it. And the incredible part Rachel has realized is that in this spot right here, in this world, the baby herself is all hers. She leans down with firm lips and softly presses a kiss on the baby's forehead. There is so much love being poured out between the two of them and Rachel cannot help but feel that there is more to this child than she appears. Someone, perhaps, she finds awfully familiar.

Before Rachel could think any further about this, she suddenly feels a soft touch of pressure being placed on her. She looks up and finds Dreamfinder smiling down lovingly at her as he places a crown of flowers upon her head. It seems Dreamfinder has left the two children under Figment's care for the time being, while he decided to come to Rachel's side for a little while and take a break from playing. The flowers are made of more of the blue forget-me-nots and pink sweet peas along with some white carnations all tied together with their green vines and stems to hold them in place. Rachel had never seen Dreamfinder forming a smile like this before and she's certainly never seen him giving her all of this treatment. The back of his hand softly caresses Rachel's left cheek as he kneels down and then sits beside her. Well, at least now she can finally ask him some questions now that they are alone. But once again, her ambitions to ask him have been interrupted by a sudden loving gesture. Dreamfinder takes Rachel from the back of her head and with closed eyes he presses his lips against Rachel's, shocking her with her eyes widened and her cheeks one hundred percent flushed pink. She was aware that Dreamfinder had kissed her on the cheek and on the forehead from time to time, but never has he ever come to her and kissed her lips.

"Dreamer?!" Rachel gasps, after she pulls away from Dreamfinder's face.

"Rachel..." said Dreamfinder lovingly, as he wraps his arms around her in comfort, "...my darling love."

He pays no mind to Rachel's shock or any sort of emotion she seems to acquire. It's as if he is under some kind of spell. Perhaps a very powerful love spell. One where even if Dreamfinder had been fully aware of what is going on inside of him, he would not have minded at all. It's a wonder why Rachel had not given into such frustration and anger by this sudden gesture like she normally does. On the other hand, no one has ever legitimately kissed her before. And to be kissed by someone who has become super close to her for a long while, not only is it shocking, but more or less both surprising and comforting. She didn't know what to say. What could she possibly say to the man who can make any material thing appear before his eyes in a flash with his imagination? It's likely he must have made this world, the presence of these children to appear, and perhaps have caused Rachel's sudden change of fashion to his liking, which is to say that Dreamfinder truly has a real fine taste provided that he comes from a different time period. On top of it, after all they have been through together with the yelling and arguing and disagreements, she doesn't want to ruin what he has going on for them all over again. So Rachel decides to stay quiet for a while and keep her remarks to herself.

As they sit together for a short period of time, they both gaze across the green meadow watching the first two of the four children Rachel had discovered playing together with their purple dragon friend, giggling happily as the minutes of playtime go by. There has not been a wasted second where Dreamfinder had not once frowned or felt sad or pressure come about him. For once, it came upon him pure and legit happiness. And why not? If this isn't what Rachel had imagined, it must have been what Dreamfinder had wanted. And for once, whatever has made Dreamfinder happy made Rachel happy inside, too. They watch the children playing and sleeping and dreaming. It was the ideal vision of the childhood that Rachel had always desired. Something she could have had for a long time had things between her and Eli Finder had gone well in the beginning. She looks back to Dreamfinder, wondering if perhaps he ever had such a childhood like this during his time in the early twentieth, perhaps even during the end of the nineteenth century. If he has, then this scene would explain a lot. 

"They're so beautiful, Rachel." said Dreamfinder tenderly. "All of them."

"You...you mean this world, right Dreamfinder?" Rachel shyly stutters.

"I mean the children. They're all far more beautiful than anything I could have ever imagined. And they're all ours."

"Ours?" Rachel gasps.

"Ours." said Dreamfinder in a happy but calm manner, wrapping both of his arms all around her and the baby girl. "Four children raised by the most beautiful girl to ever become a mother, married to the one and only Dreamfinder who simply adores her to death, and living in a peaceful world of imagination in sheer happiness and safety."

"B-Blair, I-"

"Come on, let's go to our special spot for a little bit."

"S-special spot? A while? We can't! I mean, the kids...and I...I don't know what-"

"It's alright, love. They'll be fine." said Dreamfinder with assurance as he stands up. "Figment will take care of Arien and Alora while Algar can look after Junior and Fantasia. You have nothing to worry about at all."

Arien? Alora? Junior? Junior, as in Blarion Mercurial Jr.? And Fantasia? Wait. FANTASIA?! Not the same Fantasia that is living inside her body right now, right? The one who keeps taking hold of her body and soul for a short period of time like it has been recently in Medieval England? That Fantasia?! This baby? No way! There is no possible way that Fantasia could be her daughter? That little baby sleeping in Rachel's arms right now? That's impossible! And a special place? As if this place doesn't look special enough? Where could he possibly take her out of all places than here? Surely, there can't be a more beautiful looking world than this one. 

Now Rachel is really puzzled. Why is Dreamfinder acting like this? Why is he doing this for her? He couldn't possibly love her, like really love her. They haven't known each other for that long yet. Though given the children's ages, it seems like she and Dreamfinder would have known each other for a good long while...in her dreams, at least. Maybe years! But right now this doesn't feel right. There has never been any mention of her and Dreamfinder getting married at all during their journey into the realms of imagination. That's never been in the original agreement. Though Dreamfinder did offer Rachel to stay with him and Figment for as long as she desired, even forever if she wanted to. Perhaps she's been with them long enough for this to happen. But has time really gone by so quickly? Like super quickly? There are so many questions about all of this to ask that poor Rachel could not pick which one to ask first.

In a state of her own shock, Rachel had not realized that Dreamfinder had kissed her on the cheek and took the baby back from her and carefully returned it to its little basket with a soft fatherly kiss on its forehead. After a couple of pets on the infant's head, confirming that it's finally asleep again, he takes Rachel alone in his arms, he lifts her up to her feet and leads her away from the shade under the tree and the children with Figment and Algar. They quickly make their way across the glade with Dreamfinder having his arms securely wrapped around Rachel's shoulder's, guiding her away to what seems to him a much grander spot. Rachel cannot keep up. They are going so fast she can hardly tell if they are running off and gliding right over the ground. She had to admit, this is pretty exhilarating. There has never been a time when she ever decided to run by choice of fancy. Dreamfinder laughs heartedly along the way, having the time of his life with his beloved girl at his side. To witness, no- to live in this moment has given him a much greater need for constant pleasantry. He continues not to notice Rachel's distress, but how could he? His mind must be swirling and roaring ferociously in a strong whirlwind of bliss.

They reach a pair of fir trees standing side by side and abruptly stop, much to Rachel's confusion. There is nothing in between these trees but the long, beautiful, continuous view of the valley stretching far across the horizon without end. As it is, there are fir trees scattered across the land just miles away from these two particular trees with large patches of wildflowers sitting under a vast blue sky. Being as they are, there can't be anything that could make these trees any more special. Standing together they allow the gentle winds of this land to whistle through their tiny thick bristles, waving tenderly in small circles without will.

Alone and frightened to a degree beside her host, Rachel stares across the distance wondering why Dreamfinder would bring her to such a spot. It was already weird enough to sit beside their supposed but unknown children playing together like they have popped out of thin air, but seeing these two trees all by themselves has left Rachel's mind completely blank of any ideas. Dreamfinder, however, with his beaming smile, his heart beating vigorously and his arm comfortably wrapped around Rachel's shoulder, thinks otherwise. He presses forward with Rachel in his grasp, but Rachel flinches. She finally frees herself from Dreamfinder's arm, running off toward the side of one of the two trees. For Dreamfinder to watch Rachel hiding shyly behind a tree like that is contrastingly both amusingly adorable and somewhat concerning.

"What's wrong, love?" Dreamfinder asks with his voice sounding more and more British than normal. "You look as if you don't want to spend some time alone."

There is nothing Rachel can say. As whimsical of a man Dreamfinder really is, this far beyond what Rachel can comprehend. Her shoulders tense up as her hands and fingers are firmly planted in the crevasses of the tree bark. Her hair reacts the same the skirt of her dress, swaying along with the wind the bristles are flowing within gaping patterns: soft wind, no wind, soft, none, soft, none, and so forth. Her eyes grow big with innocence and fear, tearing up into puddles at the lower levels of her eyelids. This new light Rachel is seeing in Dreamfinder is far beyond what she had imagined. He couldn't, I mean really, possibly be having this feeling for Rachel. Not after everything they have been through together...could he? Dreamfinder slowly walks up to Rachel, but Rachel quickly hides her face back behind the tree, denying her dear friend the pleasure of seeing whatever degree of beauty he believes she possesses.

"I-I-I don't want to go." Rachel stutters.

"What? Why not?" said Dreamfinder with confusion.

"This place, I mean...w-w-what if it's d-d-dangerous?"

"Darling, we've entered here over hundreds of times already." Dreamfinder heartedly chuckles. "Nothing bad has ever happened in there. That's how we wanted it, right? Besides, I thought you love going in there with me?"

"I...I..."

"Rachel?"

"I...I don't remember."

"Don't remember?"

"I don't remember anything about this place. I don't remember coming here however many times you say we may have. I don't remember being married to you. I don't even remember having any kids! I mean, I kinda do and I kinda don't want to have any kids. Mostly because of the process of child-making and childbearing and then later childbirth, you know, lady stuff. But really, I just...I just...well, that's beside the point."

"I don't see where you're getting at, dearest."

"Blair...Blair, why are you doing this to me?" Rachel asks.

"Doing what?" Dreamfinder asks back with a slight twinge of surprise in his eyes.

"This! This place! This valley! These kids! And quite possibly this dress! Why are you being so weirdly nice to me? I know you're a nice person in general- heck, probably the best person I've ever met- but not this much. Whatever happened to you and me having problems against each other. You know, me talking about Yuna and then you'd get angry at me and not believe a word I'd say about it like my dad would have? What happened to that?!"

Rachel peeks her head back out from behind the tree. But in her shock, she finds that the Dreamfinder had disappeared. Where did he go, she thought? Was he not listening to her? Did he get angry at her words like before during their adventures? Did Rachel break his heart? God forbid, no! That would tear her apart inside and she'd deserve that big time. But just as Rachel is about to cry at this confusing circumstance, she gasps at this sudden soft-but-firm embrace coming to her from behind, binding both of her arms with one arm, while the other one gently grabs hold of her entire waist. Rachel quickly turns her head where behind her she sees Dreamfinder with his chin perched onto her left shoulder. His half-closed eyes look to her blushed cheeks and brown eyes with an ironic solemn expression in spite of his burning passion beating within the walls of his heart. Rachel's frightened nerves are vibrating from her skin all the way through Dreamfinder's shirt, giving him the higher anticipation to hold her even closer than he is now.

"Blair!" she gasps.

"We are far beyond what we've been through, my love." said Dreamfinder in a benevolent volume. "You know we have already ended our quarrels when we escaped the events of the Doubt Monster back in Epcot. And you've been in great pain for far longer than enough. It has never been my intention to harm you in any way at all when I brought you along with me and Figment for the first time. And yet, I've let you down for the most part back then."

"Blarion..."

Before Rachel could say anything, Dreamfinder had already buried his face into her neck, placing multiple kisses and tickling her with the ginger-brown bristles of his beard upon her soft skin from the neck down to her shoulder and back up again. Rachel's temperature rose higher as her nerves within that potential weak spot grew more intense. 

"You have no idea how much I have always loved you since the beginning," breathed Dreamfinder, continuously kissing Rachel's neck, "how badly I wanted to have you in my grasp to do whatever I wanted to do with you. Call me selfish, but the further our adventures had taken us where every villain and potential lover could have easily taken you from me, the more I couldn't let anyone else have you. Not if I had anything to say about it. You've been mine since I first brought you with me."

"Blarion, please..." Rachel whimpers.

"Rachel. If you're afraid to love, don't be. If you're afraid you'll make me mad, don't be, even though that would sound courteous of you. If you're afraid of what the future holds for you, for me, or for the both us together, just take my hand, look me in the eye and tell me. I've kept you at my side for this long. And I don't intend on letting you go despite what you think."

"Doesn't that sound a...ahhh...a little too possessive...even for you?"

"Perhaps. But it's only because I love and care about you very much. I love you far more than anything I have imagined in my life. You know how as the Dreamfinder, whatever I do helps inspire everyone to follow their dreams? Well since the beginning, you have been for me. You inspire me to love you. I love you so much until every one of my senses is filled with you; until every thought that comes into my mind is filled with your face. I always dream of being with you forever, even after our marriage and bearing kids. I wanted to bring you away from everything that's made you unhappy. I wanted to bring you home to London, my London, to show you to my family and behold you at second of your presence. I want to make all your dreams become a reality. You are everything to me. You are my girl, my dreamlover, my dream come true...my Dream Girl."

At the sound of the term "Dream Girl," Dreamfinder's face is completely consuming every inch of every fiber of Rachel's neck. Groaning loudly, Rachel tries to wriggle her way free, but can't. She is caught helplessly at her lover's mercy with no way out. Tears are pouring from the poor girl's, but Rachel could not tell whether they are tears of fear or of joy. In common sense, she wouldn't anyone to come at her so unexpectedly, be it at the right moment or not. Especially when it comes to someone she knows or not. Dreamfinder, in this case, is more or less both. Except for what this particular moment makes her believe, she has only known him for about a couple of months. Perhaps even a year if she has been gone with Dreamfinder and Figment for that long, which contradicts much of what she stands for. She always believed that if by chance Rachel would actually find someone to love her who could potentially be her future husband, she would wait a full year for her to at least gain enough trust from the loving man. 

This way of Dreamfinder feeling for Rachel from his heart is not what Rachel had wanted. She wanted him to stop, but she cannot find the words or the heart to say it. As Rachel stands there paralyzed, her thoughts and fears have fleeted elsewhere. But only one thought remained: the thought of living a moment of love. When was the last she had ever dreamed of such a moment? She had always been busy living her life in fear, being emotionally and physically abused by her family, completely isolated from the world and even herself, and fearing of the monsters and demons would likely come before her and do her harm when she least expects it. Rachel has seen this sort of predicament in movies, on gifs and all throughout the internet when she should be sleeping. But this is different. For once, Rachel is actually living it! And the more Dreamfinder is doing this, the more comfortable she is becoming. And the more comfortable she is feeling, the more she wants it. Maybe Rachel does want this. The poor thing, she must be craving for it. Starving for it! Longing for even a little taste of it. A sample. A crumb. A drop of it! One teeny tiny drop to amount to even a quarter of a centimeter. Something! Anything! 

She looks back to Dreamfinder, who is still chewing and kissing out her neck and shoulder like an animal and places a hand upon his head, wanting him to continue more and quench her thirst for a much-desired lust. Rachel's mind has become a totally blank slate of gray, a touch of light out of innocence and a touch of darkness for this unprecedented sin.

"Blair..." Rachel gasps aloud in her breath.

"Yes?" Dreamfinder answers, finally ceasing from furthering his passionate continuation of his brushing lips to hear from Rachel's.

"That special place you mentioned..."

"..."

"...Take me." she said. "Please take me there now."

"As you wish." Dreamfinder said with a warm smile.

Wishing to do far more than good for his supposed dream bride, the Dreamfinder immediately picks Rachel up in his arms with Rachel's face tucked safely within his neck and her cheeks upon his chest. Her arms are wrapped around Dreamfinder's shoulders, locking together hand in hand. Both Rachel's hair and dress drape down below, caressed by the gentle Zephyrus winds. The wind is gentle in itself, but somehow it possesses such a firmness that can make anything float in its path. As Dreamfinder starts walking back in between the two fir trees, it is as if the wind had decided to lull Rachel senseless and then carry her away into eternity. A tender song is singing gingerly into her ears by the voice of an angel, warm and beautiful like the sun. Safe at last, she now fully commits herself to her lover, the Dreamfinder.

Dreamfinder approaches the two fir trees again, this time with Rachel safely in his arms, as if almost asleep. Filled with confidence, the Dreamfinder finally steps forward and walks straight in between the trees. One would think that nothing would happen if someone would just plainly walk through the clearing of those trees, but knowing the Dreamfinder there is always a speck of surprise waiting to pop up anywhere. For Dreamfinder, as if by magic, has carried Rachel through an unlikely portal. Invisible to the naked eye, but definitely there. The portal ripples like a wall of water as they enter with a frame of bright light engulfing them and trailing behind them as they disappeared from this beautiful place.

True to Dreamfinder's word, this place really is special. He brings Rachel safely through the portal into a confined enclosure of tall, fresh, green forest trees surrounding them in a circle. A dark starry sky towers high above them with each star watching over them with a flicker and a twinkle in them all. Another large bed of wildflowers, much like the size in bounty from the previous world that Figment, Algar, and the children are in, cover the entire grassy ground untouched and crisp. Floating in the air are tiny orbs of aura-like light sprites, much like the little sparks of imagination from Eli Finder's lab in Epcot, giving warmth and light to the lovers as they pass by gracefully without interrupting their beings. This is a place of pure tranquility. Not a single sight of monsters or demons or darkness can be seen other than the starry sky above. Yet, even the sky is displaying a vast valley of light twinkling furiously, which upon first sight would bear the visual equivalence of hundreds of pictures of outer space taken by satellite cameras.

Gently, the Dreamfinder lowers down on his knees and places Rachel down upon the flower bed. Each strand of grass and flower stem are tickling Rachel's cheeks as she lies down almost lifeless. The way Rachel is posed with long hair spread out in all directions and her white dress swaddling across her body with few lines defining where her legs and other such parts are located has Dreamfinder beholding her from above like a goddess who had come solely to Dreamfinder alone in her own blessing to do his bidding however he wishes. Whoever thought the Dreamfinder could act so romantic? He carefully crawls over Rachel's body in his dominance staving both of his arms and hands at both sides of Rachel's face to the ground. He looks to her with such loving eyes. It has been expressed so many times, but more than usual has Rachel gazed into her lover's deep blue eyes, twinkling like a liquid pool of pure sapphires. If Rachel would gaze into them long enough, she may just as well be drowning within them. Dreamfinder lowers himself down deeper with his face right against Rachel's. 

"Rachel..." he murmurs.

"Blair...?" Rachel whispers faintly with drooping lustful eyes.

"You're home. You're finally home."

Dreamfinder kisses her again with great passion ready to pleasure the dear thing to his heart's content. Their lips intermingle together to the point where an extra muscle from both sides within them have interceded in their love. Rachel's arms are tightly wrapper around Dreamfinder's shoulders. Dreamfinder's hands trail everywhere throughout Rachel's body in her pleasure with one moving around her upper chest and the other around her waist. Rachel's body temperature is soaring higher and higher to near fever heat, making her hot and faint by this lustful scene. They could be going in all the way. They could be becoming intimate with each other. A position like this may explain how the children have been made.

It all seems so real. This is everything Rachel had always dreamed of: a kind and handsome man to come across her and love her to pieces. If this were a dream, she did not want it to end. She had lived her life suffering with nightmares in her sleep nonstop and for once, she can finally enjoy a moment of pure bliss in her slumber. Then again, if this is real, much to Rachel's hopes, this whole thing is a dream come true. All of this has become a reality under Dreamfinder's responsibility.

"Rachel..." said Dreamfinder gingerly, "...I love you."

"I love you..." Rachel sighs happily, "...Blair...Blarion."

But somewhere in each of their desires to love each other even further, Rachel slowly closes her eyes as if swooning. She swoons into her unconsciousness as she allows Dreamfinder to continue his kissing upon her face, her neck, and ever so fervidly, her lips. For once in such a long time, Rachel's dreams have lived on without any shred of darkness to consume her again. For once, she is safe.

***************************************************************************************************

The sun outside the castle is seeping through the skinny window. The rain has stopped, the sun has risen, it's a new and fresh day in Medieval England. 

Cuddling in her pillows and sheets, Rachel's body wiggles around, tossing and turning as in synchronized to whatever in her dreams is making her do this. She moans and groans and giggles happily, silently calling Dreamfinder's name, his real name, as if he already by her side and on top of her in reality. Perhaps he is. In her anticipation and excitement to see for herself, Rachel finally opens her eyes. They are greeted by the bright shining light of the sun, blinding her harshly but made self-aware of this golden haze. But something is different here. There is no vast wild-flowered meadow, there are no children involved, and there is no secret portal. Rachel had just woken back up into the real world...well, real as it gets considering the recent events of her journey into imagination.

Rubbing her eyes open, she is startled by the sudden sound of Algar yelping and panting cheerfully as he greets the morning to her. But how did Algar get here? Where is she? And what happened to Dreamfinder and Figment? They're gone!

Then she remembered. They had come to Medieval England through dream power to find this missing king, it was raining last night, they needed shelter to sleep in, they found this castle, and just before Rachel had drifted off into her sweet slumber she had listened to Dreamfinder tell her a bedtime story upon her request. Rachel looks to Algar and smiles. She reaches out to pick up her gryphon like a puppy in a little child's bed.

"Bark! Bark!" said Algar with a cheerful greeting.

"Algar..." Rachel mutters in her morning tone, picking Algar up and saying, "...I just had the most beautiful dream."

"Yruu?" Algar said, as if saying, "You?"

"I know right? You were there, Figment was there, and Dreamfinder...wait. What if it was...? Algar, you didn't happen to see any children around, have you? Or even a large vast meadow of wildflowers?"

"Uh-uh."

"Oh...well, I figured this was too good to be true." Rachel sighed with a shrug. "But still, if you had seen what I had seen last night, you wouldn't deny how amazing it was. I couldn't even believe it myself! I was minding myself, you were sleeping beside me, Figment was off playing, and Blair...oh, Blair. He was something. I mean...Algar, do you think Dreamfinder likes me in some way?"

"I roe row." said Algar saying, "I don't know."

"Hmm...I guess it's probably best not to ask about that. I wouldn't want to make things awkward as it felt, all the same. Where are Figment and Dreamfinder anyway?"

"Bark-bark bark-bark bark bark bark bark-bark-bark."

"Oh, went off to exploring to find food and water, huh?"

"Mm-hmm." he nodded.

"We should go help them then. It'll cover more ground if all four of us look together...separately...I think."

"Uh-uh! Bark bark bark-bark-bark bark bark bark."

"Dreamfinder didn't want to wake me up because he wanted me to feel comfortable?" Rachel guesses.

"Mm-hmm." Algar replies with another nod.

"That Dreamfinder...always trying to do something for me. It never ends does it? In fact...call me crazy, but...I think he...I think he loves me!"

"Rove?"

"Yeah, love."

"BLECH!"

"Oooh! Who asked you?" Rachel laughs. "You're probably too young to understand anyway. Besides, how could he anyway? I've already treated him like crap as it is."

"Aww...barkk wakka-wak bark bark wak, bark bark?"

"Well, yeah, he forgave me for it. He always has. And now I've come to respect him even more than I have. And who knows, he might feel the same with me after what happened a few days ago."

"Bark bark." Algar said, saying, "That's true."

"Come on." said Rachel. "Let's go find the others.

Rachel and Algar both jump off of bed together and search for their friends throughout the halls. Thankfully, with the sun brightening up the place, the inside of the castle doesn't look so scary as it did last night. Still, with no regard, it is still scary to some degree. As they tread down these halls, they notice how completely run down this place is. The rocks are growing mold, the floors are so dusty, the tapestries are eaten and ripped to shreds, the metals they find like food utensils, weapons, pots, vases and plates are all rusted, and to makes things even creepier, there is not a single soul around to come and clean this place up. Nothing in this castle could possibly be sustainable to live in. It's a wonder how they managed to spend one night in all of this.

"Not the best looking place I've ever seen." said Rachel. "Though it could be worse."

"Arrrr..." Poor Algar is whimpering at this still environment. There is something in this place that must really be getting on his nerves in a very fearful way.

"I mean, perhaps with a woman's touch, this place could become the next Shangri-La for even the greatest kings and queens on Earth. Or maybe even a god! I'd certainly like to live here myself. That is, if this was still livable."

"HELP!"

Suddenly, a loud shriek echoed through the castle and into Rachel and Algar's ear. A rattle of falling metal clashes against the ground upon their sight as they see a purple creature dashing around the corner towards Rachel and the gryphon in a frenzy.

"Figment!" Rachel shouts.

But Figment ignores her. Normally, when a problem rises up, he usually alerts his friends what is happening. But this time, much to his apparent fear, he didn't. Something is wrong. He must be running, or in Figment's case flying, from something or someone who must really have some horrible intentions to do him harm.

Now Dreamfinder comes into view with fear written in his eyes. So much for calm loving appearance. He struggles a hard right turn into the same hall Figment had flown into where his other two friends are standing. Anticipating to keep Rachel safe, he grabs her by the wrist and abruptly pulls her away from whatever danger is here with Algar quickly following them. They cut through different halls, making sharp turns at ever corner they come across

"Blair! What is going on here?" Rachel shouts.

"BOAR!" Dreamfinder yells.

"Dude! Not cool! I don't know what this is about, but that doesn't give you a reason to insult me for...whatever reason you must have!"

"No! I mean 'boar!' As in 'pig' kind of boar!"

"That's worse, Dreamfinder!"

"Not you! A real boar! It's chasing right after us!"

"What?!"

Rachel turns her head around to look back and sure enough, there is a boar running behind them! And quite possibly the most gruesome looking boar Rachel had ever seen. Its body reveals continuous lumps on both sides of his midsection formed by his ribcage. The toothy tusks it wields are jagged and sharp as well as broken by some other previous predicament. Its eyes angrily narrow down towards its prey as they desperately try to scramble away from it with great haste.

What could a boar be doing in an abandoned castle, Rachel thought? What could it possibly want in this desolate place? But now is not the time for questions. One minute, Rachel is dreamy of love passion with Dreamfinder. The next thing she knew, she's running away with him from some carnivorous animal.

So much for a peaceful morning.


	7. Chapter 7

As Dreamfinder had feared while abruptly pulling Rachel away to safety, the wild boar is chasing behind them. The boar runs faster, panting and snorting with sweat dripping and dropping through its fur and sprinkling into the air to be left behind. The loud sounds of its hooves galloping in a fast pace as it clomps against the stone floors, echoing throughout and bouncing off the walls in the hallways, has reached the same rhythm of the fast-beating hearts of our heroes in their attempts to escape.

With hands clasped tight, both Rachel and Dreamfinder are struggling to run over their maximum limit ahead of the boar. This is not what Rachel had imagined last night. They manage to catch up with Figment and Algar as they cut through more corners and run up and down several pairs of stairs. But the boar would not stop chasing them. The obstacles that would block its way don't stand a chance to hold it off. Every broken piece of stone wall or rubble would each burst into an explosion of flying rocks being cast aside. Whatever is making this creature possess such motivation inside, it means business. Like serious business! It tries to run faster, closer and closer to its prey with every step. It seems that it won't stop chasing them until it finally catches them.

"YIKES!" Figment screams.

"What is with that thing?" Rachel shouts. "Doesn't it know when to quit?"

" 'Let's go exploring,' he says." Dreamfinder grumbles angrily in a loud tone, enough for Figment to hear him. " 'Find food,' he says. 'Pet the pig,' he says! 'Throw a red curtain at it and blind it while we run away,' he says! Great idea, Figment! Those sure solved all of our problems!"

"Hey! I thought we could make friends with it!" Figment shouts back in defense.

"You wanted to make breakfast out of it!"

"So I was hungry! Sure, I'm not into killing and eating harmless animals, but we've got to survive out here, right?"

"That thing is anything but harmless, Figment! Couldn't you tell by the rugged teeth it has?"

"Teeth? I thought they were tusks!"

"SHUT UP! BOTH OF YOU! Less arguing, more running!" Rachel barks loudly, intervening on the ranting.

They continue to cut corners along the path, hoping to make another abrupt turn in time before the desperate creature would see them make their next move. But there is no way of outsmarting this beast. Its eyes are narrowing its supposed victims down, eager to catch them and tear them apart with everything its got. The windows on the walls are much to skinny for anyone to jump through. And even if they were wide enough or broken open, they are too high up to make the jump. Pathways are being blocked by fallen debris that may have previously fallen from the ceiling. They are running out of options. There is no escape. They have to hide!

Somewhere along the way, Algar spots a tall crack from within the wall. It is narrow in sight, but it is wide enough for him and his friends to slip into. For her protection, Dreamfinder pushes Rachel inside first, then Algar and Figment, and then himself. They struggle to step as far back away from the boar's reach as possible, but there is hardly enough room behind them to get away. The mad boar approaches the crack in the wall where our heroes are, squealing and crying as it tries to break in and get closer to them. Dreamfinder tries to kick the boar away, but flinches back every time the boar chomps its jaws at him. Screams are being made as are the battle cries of that devilish animal. They squeeze themselves farther back to fill whatever room is left in their enclosure for safety, but it is no use. They are trapped inside and there is no way of getting out of the crack while this boorish nuisance is still around attacking them.

"Get back! Get away, you blasted devil you!" Dreamfinder heatedly shouts in a gruff British tone, as he kicks his feet at the creature. But with every blow he makes it is only making the boar squeal angrier and angrier.

"What do we do?!" Rachel shouts from behind Dreamfinder. "That thing is not planning on leaving anytime soon if we don't do something."

Algar jumps upon Dreamfinder's head and starts growling and barking ferociously at the creature. At first, it seemed to work. The boar jump back a couple of feet in its shock, but the effect had soon died down as the boar barbarically charges and buts its head against the wall, making the crack crumble down piece by piece until the crack is wide enough for the boar to enter. Thus, having Algar retreat back behind his creator continuously barking at the monster.

"It's not working!" Dreamfinder shouts. "We've got to try something else!"

"Figment! Your fire breath!" Rachel call out.

"What? Me?" Figment cries, as he is taken aback by the sudden suggestion. "What good is that going to do?"

"Gee, I don't know. Perhaps it might scare it off! Maybe burn it? You're a dragon, aren't you?"

"Hey, you know what? I am! I am a mighty dragon! I can take on this guy. Stand back, guys!"

Figment takes Algar's place on top of Dreamfinder's head to get into position. The dragon breathes in deeply. His scales are tensing up. The claws in his hands press deeply through Dreamfinder's hair and into his head. Filled with a flaming fire in his heart he can feel it running up through his throat, ready to blast out a ferocious fire fiercer than he has ever blown before. With brave eyes shooting straight ahead, Figment thrusts his head right against the boars grunting face and lets out the most unimaginable…cough?

Instead of a beam of fire coming out of Figment's breath, a puff of smoke takes place. The impact of a hot smoke begin coughed out has Figment's big yellow eyes swelling with tears. He continues to cough maniacally, trying to cover his mouth to the best of his ability but it would not stop. The smoke just keeps coming out of the poor dragon and soon fills up the entire crack he and his friends are trapped in, causing everyone to cough uncontrollably. The smoke reaches upon the boar, too. Layer by layer the first breath of it is blown onto its eyes, blinding the creature with a hot stinging in the nerves and veins they are string to its head with. The boar shakes its head violently. It turns away from its prey in the crack and starts running, bumping against everything it touches as it goes.

Just across from the crack there seems to be another crack under a window on the opposite side of the hallway's length. Small pebbles have crept and fallen from their previously positions and have tapped onto the stone floor soundlessly. The boar, in its blindness, runs up to the wall. It bashes its head against it and to everyone's surprise, the crack the boar hits breaks open from the inside and out into the nature of the medieval world! Clumps of stone and boulder and cut and broken into hundreds of rock pieces as they are being pushed away by the boar's force. Bewildered and unknowingly, the boar has forced itself to fall several feet above the ground along with its falling crumbling debris. The last thing our heroes hear out of that devil pig is its crying shrieks as it plummets down out of view and off the side of the castle. The boar hits the ground finally and it scares the wits of Basil's horse who is just standing nearby in his stable, traumatized by the sight of a newly blood-curdled pig.

Then all is quiet. The four friends, huddled together, all watch the wall gaped open with open jaws and widened eyes at this unexpected sight. They are safe at last, but they had not foreseen the way it would turn out to make it happen. They hear the sounds of the boar's unprecedented death, the horse's terrified whining, and the silent gentle breathing of the chilling soft morning wind. Their blood runs cold. Their minds are in a slight shocking blank slate of fear. Their hands are clenched onto whatever they can hold. Their muscles are tense and shivering by the cold yet sunny morning's touch. This may not have been the best morning they have ever woken up to, though all things considered, it could have been worse.

"…Dead or alive, I'm not eating that thing." said Rachel, the first to snap out of the shock of the boar's death. She receives a couple of nods of agreement from her friends. All of them are on the same page as she is.

"My word…" Dreamfinder breathes, "…in all my childhood years living in the countryside caring for livestock, that boar was by far the worse-tempered I have ever seen."

"Uh-huh. Uh-huh." Algar grunts, nodding.

"Some help I was!" groaned Figment. "I still can’t make a good enough fiery breath. I can't even catch a pig!"

"Hey, at least you were able to scare it away." said Rachel with a tittering confidence. 

"Only to get it killed! Yeah, I was hungry, too, but I didn't want to handle things like this. It's all my fault. I'm sorry, guys."

"There, there, Figment." said Dreamfinder with an assuring calmness, as he attempts to move his had from being squished to the side of the wall to pet his imaginary dragon friend. "There is no need for you to beat yourself up. You did what you thought was right. And you saved us in the end." 

"Ro-ra-ri-wak-wakka-bark bark bark-bark wak." Algar said. In English, his remarks translates, "Though you did cause the boar to come chasing after us to begin with."

"Algar! Not helping!" Rachel barks. 

"It's okay." said Figment with a reluctant gloom in his tone. "I know he doesn't mean badly. Let's just…forget it."

"Right then." said Dreamfinder, eagerly trying to change the subject. "I suppose the one thing to do now is to get out of this crack. Figment, Algar, you two can get out safely on your own, can you?"

"Ar-ar!" yipped Algar in his approval.

"Sure can!" exclaimed Figment, who had immediately put aside his guilt for the time being. "Come on, Algar!"

Both Algar and Figment squeeze out of the crack and flutter about in hallway, waiting in the hallway and making sure there are no more possible threats to occur. Meanwhile, Dreamfinder and Rachel are the only two persons left stuck inside. They each struggle to move even a single step forward to get out. Their bodies are smooshed back-to-back with both of their heads face away. A couple of scratches have been made on them; Rachel has a few of them on her cheeks and arms with some of them having some peeled skin, while Dreamfinder's cheekbones have only cuts visible for anyone to see. There is more rock hanging over Dreamfinder on the way out, so he has to crouch down lower to Rachel's height on the way. This compact enclosure has been of great annoyance to the two of them as well as it served protecting them from the boar. They want so badly to get out of there. The sooner, the better.

"Uhh…Dreamfinder?" said Rachel.

"Yes, Rachel?" Dreamfinder struggles to reply, trying to turn his body into the right direction.

"This may sound a bit off topic for me to say, but…what would you…what you name your kids…if you have any? Had any? If you plan on having any?"

"Uhh…I don't really know." said Dreamfinder with a blush hidden away in his cheeks. "I don't have any kids and given that I'm completely indulged in our journey into imagination, I…I'm not so sure I'll ever get any."

"Whew." With such relief inside, Rachel sighs. At least now she feels that her dream last night may seem a lot less accurate and relieving to keep the dream as it is.

As they finally reach to the plane level of the wall, they each try to turn their bodies around. As if that isn't stressful enough, there are a couple of stones sticking out of the walls where their heads are. So the two of them each has to turn their heads very carefully to face each other while trying to get scratched even more. Rachel tilts her head back to face the back of the crack in the wall, while Dreamfinder's head tilts outside. But as they both turn their heads back at the same time, their lips touch! Their lips have brushed across each other's into a sudden kiss. Their eyes are growing larger by the second. They're not trying to kiss. Not now. Not this second. Dreamfinder had wanted to kiss this girl for a long while now. Though that has been among the many intentions he had always desired to do to her, he had not expected, nor given any thought, to do this now. This is all just an accident.

In Rachel's eyes, this is as she had both desired and feared at the same time from her dream last night. She had been helplessly kissed, smothered, slobbered and loved by this beautiful-minded man in it. The shock of the sudden realization that Dreamfinder is kissing her now, accident or not, in the real world (as real as it gets considering their motive), just minutes after she had woken up from the most beautifully bewitching dream she had ever conjured has Rachel completely frozen.

Their eyes search each other's eyes and faces, not moving for another second. They each want to know what the heck the other is thinking. Why is this happening? Why are they doing this? Who did it first? And more importantly, why is this still going on? Still, this exhilaration building up between them is both most comforting and exciting. Both Dreamfinder and Rachel look deep into each other's eyes again, the same as they have first watched each other when Rachel first woke up to him after getting fired by Disney, when they were being taken prisoner in Fillidore, when Dreamfinder had taken the blow for Rachel from the Abiteth's goopy curse, when Dreamfinder had watched Rachel act so motherly to the little sparks back in Epcot, and finally when Dreamfinder had offered Rachel to stay with him for, to his greatest desires, forever. No matter what had come in their way, they somehow always manage to find a time to look at each other. Perhaps now, they are finally beginning to understand why.

What seems like several minutes had actually only been seconds by the time they both managed to finally slip out of the crack in the wall together. Their lips are still touching by then, but Rachel suddenly pulls hers away from Dreamfinder's and blushes. The sudden shock of this bond has them both staring each other down. Neither one of them wanted to stop this kiss, but it had to end. And when they did, they could not stop thinking mixed thoughts rampaging everywhere in their brains, affecting their imaginations. For Rachel, she stands there frozen, incapable of knowing what to do. She just kissed the Dreamfinder by accident. Accident! What the heck could he possibly be thinking about in all of this. She must have embarrassed him. She's obviously embarrassed herself. She's screwed! 

Dreamfinder, on the other hand, has his heart and mind fluttering with beating hummingbird wings soaring higher and higher to the highest heights imaginable. His thoughts are both filling and fleeting with sunshine and rainbows, romantic music in the forms of various music notes bouncing about in rhythm, flowers dancing as humans would together in sync to the music, and much other material things that make him smile being multiplied over ten times over by the sweet tender touch of Rachel's lips. From Dreamfinder thoughts alone, that is expected coming from him. But what could she be thinking, he thought to himself? Is she embarrassed by this? Is she upset? Did he make her unhappy? It doesn't look like it. She looks more shocked than upset.

Both minds are racing in circles, trying to comprehend what the other is thinking. No matter how hard they try, they cannot seem to rationalize the situation. What happened just happened. They just kissed! And by accident, as it occurred. Nothing more. They each try to hide away their blush, either looking down from the other or turning to the side. But neither maneuver is working out in their favor. All they can do is stare at each other again. 

"I'm…I…" Poor Dreamfinder can not come up with an excuse, he can only stutter.

"…I'm sorry, I…I'm so sorry!" Rachel stutters also, trying to keep her cool together. "I didn't know you were-"

"I-I wasn't! I was trying to…and then you-"

"I was just trying to get out of the crack until…until…that."

"Yes…that."

They start staring at each other again. This time, Rachel almost smiles. Her dreams of Dreamfinder kissing her last night had unintentionally become a reality in a way she had not expected it. Especially not intending on being chased by a boar to make it happen. Her hearts begins to flutter at the sight of Dreamfinder's face; his gorgeous deep blue eyes, the rosy pink blush in his cheeks, his rusted-ginger red hair, beard and moustache all curled to match his whimsy fancy - the way they softly sway with the soft wind fanning into the castle from outside - his pursed lips slowly growing into a smile in revealing his teeth by a small sheer of glee he must be forming inside, and the fact of how much taller he is compared to her shows the possible dominance he would have over her. 

Dreamfinder could be thinking the same thing about Rachel. Her long silk light-brown hair cascading down like a waterfall, her light-brown eyes to match added to brightening equivalence of milk chocolate swirling slowly in her irises, the small mouth he had just kissed he had only just realized are as rosy pink as the blush in her cheeks, and the potential smile Rachel would also give when it counts. All of which that has contributed to helping Dreamfinder fall in love with her in the first place. Dreamfinder takes another step closer to Rachel, allured by the girl's beauty. He lifts a hand to Rachel's face, sweeping his fingers to touch her cheeks.

"Blair?" Rachel gasps softly, blushing even more.

"You, um…you've got something on your cheek." said the embarrassed Dreamfinder. "Just a little dirt is all." 

He was right. There was a small patch of dirt on Rachel's cheek. Dreamfinder gently rubs the dirt off clean, but for some reason his hand can't stop rubbing. He had just realized he wasn't wearing his usual white gloves. He had taken them off last night and put them in his pocket to avoid them feeling sweaty overnight. So now Dreamfinder's bare hands are now touching Rachel's bare skin. His hand then cups her cheek as his thumb progresses in caressing her through his intimacy. Rachel, embracing the gentle sunlit brushing, cannot resist this sweet sensation. She has been dying to feel this for the longest time. No one in her life has ever felt her this way. And in trying to forget the events of what had happened in the Imagination Pavilion so many years ago, or years later considering the different time period they are now in Medieval London, it's hard to remember whether or not Uncle Eli had done the same thing for her? From what she can tell in her experience so far, Dreamfinder has been the one providing her with such sweetness. Her eyes soothingly close, yearning desperately for Dreamfinder to not stop doing this. She wanted to take Dreamfinder's hand casually, the one that is rubbing her, and press it deeper upon her face, wanting so badly to take in every ounce of warmth he must have.

"Blair?" said Rachel softly.

"Yes?" said Dreamfinder with tenderness in his tone.

"I think you've got all the dirt off."

"Oh! Yes…so I have." snapping out of his little love spell, the Dreamfinder quickly pulls his hand back with an embarrassed chuckle.

This might be it. This might finally be the time for Dreamfinder to say something to Rachel once and for all. They are in the moment. He has her where he wants her to be. Her cheek was is in his hands. His heartbeats are pounding atrociously to the point where he might be making fast but silent breaths through his mouth and throat. She is so adorable, he thought; Adorable, childish, and beautiful overall! He can not take it anymore. It's time to speak up!

"…Blair?" Rachel mutters.

"…Rachel, I-" said Dreamfinder, who had just started to speak only be interrupted once again by an outside force. 

"Hey guys!" Figment had called out all the way from the other side of the hall with Algar beside him. Dreamfinder and Rachel pull themselves away at the sound of Figment's voice, breaking them both this apparent spell of bondness between them. What a way to ruin the moment. "Are you two coming are not?"

"OH! Y-Yes, Figment! We're coming!" Dreamfinder called back, as multiple drops of sweat start forming and falling from his head.

"Whew! All is this running from that boar has made me thirsty."

In a nearby room a short distance away, the purple dragon spots a rusted gold chalice sitting on top of a wooden stool. It looks so old, though. It must have been sitting in here for many long years! The bowl of the chalice is already filled, however, with water. Eager to quench his thirst, Figment flutters on over to the chalice for a drink. He checks out the for any signs of rust inside the water, but there does not seem to be any. The outer detail of the cup is detailed with rubies encrusted with rings of gold to hold them in place and markings of a cross in between each of them. Seeing as how there seems to be nothing in the chalice's bowl, Figment consumes much of the beverage until there was nothing left. In an instant, his energy accelerates by twice as much. It's as if he had just consumed fifty cups of coffee all at once to where he is starting to feel some extra buzz. 

"Wowie-wow-wow!" exclaimed Figment, flapping his tiny wings like crazy. "That felt great! I must have been a lot thirstier than I thought."

"Huh?" Algar peeks over Figment's shoulder and inspects the chalice. He stretches his head, smells it, sticks out his tongue, and tastes the last remaining drops in Figment had left behind in the chalice. Then he, too, starts to feel more energy rising up. It must be that even a small drop can do big wonders from this cup. "Rwow!" the gryphon exclaimed. He starts flying backflip loops with great excitement. Now both imaginary friends are completely energized and ready for the day.

"Wow! This is the best water I've ever tasted." said the happy Figment. "I don't know what this chalice is about, but I'm keeping it!" Hanging from the edge of a chair, the dragon spots a bag made of leather. It looks a bit worn, but might still be usable. Figment grabs it and puts the empty chalice inside.

With his chalice stuffed safely in his own bag, Figment flies off ahead with Algar, once again leaving his creator with Rachel for another brief moment. Unfortunately, the brief occasion they just had already passed. They were snapped out of this tender juncture and there was no way of getting it back.

"So…" Rachel drawls awkwardly.

"So…" Dreamfinder also drawls.

"I guess we ought to go and catch up with them, huh?"

"Yes…yes, of course."

Running ahead to join up with Figment and Algar, Rachel leaves Dreamfinder behind alone. A sudden shatter in Dreamfinder's heart begins to crack bigger than the crack in wall he had hidden in that he had to clutch it. She was right here! Right in front of him! He felt her cheek and she embraced it! Gosh darn it! He was so close! For crying out loud, even by accident, they just kissed! A cloud of gloom forms and starts raining down within Dreamfinder's mind. He had missed his opportunity once again. But at least he knows Rachel was feeling something from it, if not the same thing. Perhaps maybe…maybe…there is still hope. Dreamfinder shakes his head, clearing his mind of this sad feeling and runs to catch up to his friends.

***************************************************************************************************

"Good morning, Basil's horse!" Figment cheerfully greets. He flies over to the poor fear-stricken equestrian and gently pets him on the back.

With everyone outside, trying to their best to avoid any eye contract to the dead boar that had fallen from high up in the castle, they make themselves ready to continue their adventure in finding the missing king. At least the horse is fed, while everyone else's stomach are on the verge of growling. And all of their food is still within the busted-up Dream Machine. Their only hope in finding food is either to forage for things that are not in the least bit poisoned or come across a nearby town for a decent meal.

"ALGAR!" 

Seeing as how Algar had opened his mouth to take a bite at the raw carnage of the pig, given that his nature as a gryphon to solely eat nothing else but meat and fish, Rachel shouts out to her imaginary gryphon in protest. Algar freezes with his beak open aimed at the boar's neck. His widened eyes tilt back towards Rachel's direction awkwardly without moving his face. Hoping she would not react again with his eyes still locked at his creator, Algar leans his further over the dead pig sticking his tongue out closer and closer to taste it. 

"Algar, don't!" Rachel barked. "I know you're hungry as I am, I know you only eat meat, and I know you want to eat that thing, but you can't! There's bound to be plenty of other better things to eat out there than this. Plus, we don't even know where that thing has been. Just leave it alone and let's go."

Defeated with his arms crossed, Algar pouts and returns to his creator grumbling, leaving the dead pig as it is for the flies to feed on.

Rachel had joined up with Dreamfinder again as he and Figment ready the horse to continue their adventure. Figment is of course in a happy statement, as is his given nature despite the recent disappointment he felt was his fault even though it saved his friends in the end. Dreamfinder, however trying to keep a straight face, cannot hide the blush that has blossomed upon his cheeks for the past ten minutes. Rachel has taken notice of it, blushing herself. She decided if they take the scenario they had found themselves even further, it would make things even more awkward. Letting it be, she tries to change the subject.

"Are we almost ready to go?" Figment giddily asks.

"Almost." said Dreamfinder. "I just need to tighten the saddle up a bit."

"Hey." said Rachel in a quiet, possibly embarrassed tone, as she walks up to Dreamfinder with a small wave.

"Hi."

"…How's it going? You…doing alright?"

"I'm fine, thank you."

"Cool!" Cool? Smooth, Rachel. Very smooth.

"Cool!…I guess. That is the right term, right?"

"Well, I mean, I just said 'cool' to you first just now, so yeah. You've got it right."

"Good, because you know how I- how Figment and I, we…we've been gone for a very long time, so we don't really know…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But you're fine. You did good."

"Good." Dreamfinder smiled.

"Good." Rachel smiled also.

"Good!"

"Goodie-goodie!"

"Um…are you two okay?" Figment asks, confused as to how and why his friends are reacting like this.

"What do you mean?" Dreamfinder asked, blushing brightly.

"You two are blushing and sweating pretty badly and you're talking so weirdly."

"I…"

"It's…it's the boar chase!" Rachel abruptly intervenes, trying her best not to spill the beans as to what happened. "All that running and fear-driving has gotten us looking beat and tired, added that we have just woken up. At least I have. You know how that is, Figment."

"Oh-ho-ho! Okay!" the dragon exclaims heartedly with relief. "I was afraid something else happened to you while I wasn't looking. You look like something came up at your face or something."

"No,whywouldyouthinkthat?" Dreamfinder quickly sputters with his eyes open wide and his face dripping with sweat. "Wedidn'tdoanything,didweRachel? No,ofcoursewedidn't,becausethere'snothingweirdgoingon. Youknowwhat'sweird? YOU!"

"Uh…Dreamfinder?" Rachel speaks up.

"What?!"

"You're sputtering really fast."

"I am?"

"You are!" Figment giggles, oblivious as to what his creator is really thinking. "You're saying a bunch of words without breathing like you normally do when you're feeling guilty of something."

"Oh…well then. Why don't we just, uh…head forth and continue this adventure We've got a king to find after all?" Dreamfinder suggested in an awkward tone.

"Yippee!"

As Figment flutters away out of the stable and into the open world with Algar, both Dreamfinder and Rachel are left alone again. Once again, they stare at each other with some sort of sweet bewilderment building deep inside them. Though Rachel might be the only one of the two feeling the worst of it. The events that had taken place last night in her dreams compared to what had just happened this morning has brought her into a situation far too quickly than she would have prepared herself for. There has never been a moment in her life when either one of her parents have ever told her how to maneuver such circumstances. Her dad being a straight-up jerk and her mom being to cool and uneven to try to tell her on account of Rachel's dad being an ***hole. This is all too sudden. As for Dreamfinder, he had spent his life knowing the values of love given to him by his family so long ago, but have always been far too preoccupied to make the first move. He had been married to his own work, thus creating Figment, the Mesmonic Converter, and his current but highly-celebrated persona. Technology his life, his work is his wife, and his inventions are his children. He had never given himself the opportunity to spot a pretty girl, or even any real girl for that matter, and build up the confidence to share his feelings. Least of all until he had brought Rachel along for the ride. He had succeeded in accomplishing Phase One. Phase Two is the real test of commitment. And from what had just happened after dealing with the boar inside the castle, he's found a small glimpse of hope coming right out of the expression on Rachel's face. 

They stare at one another for a moment. It feels like it has been hours since the kiss happened, though it has only been fifteen minutes. They can't keeping standing around like this any longer. They have a mission weighing down on their shoulder and in their hands. They can't let something so silly as this distract them from finding the king and the geodesic sphere. Out of the two of them, only one steps up first.

"Blair," said Rachel, breaking the silence finally, "I…I really don't know what to say about what just happened. I don't know what you might be thinking now other than embarrassment and I'm sorry for that, too. I'm not trying to 'friend-zone' us or anything, but I-"

"No! Not at all, Rachel!" Dreamfinder interrupts hastily. "That's the last thing I want. I mean, I-I-I-I can tell you must be feeling embarrassed, too. For one, you're blushing and-"

"So are you."

"I know I am! But I…I…" His thoughts are racing with his words, overlapping each other in layers. Whatever he is thinking of are not coming out of his mouth. Instead they bouncing and banging at each other all over inside his head, giving him an emotional migraine. "…I…you know how I want to make you comfortable throughout our journey together…" I love you. "…and protect you from all possible harm…" I love you, Rachel. "…and that's what I will continue to do. You are my responsibility after all…" Rachel, I love you so much! Please love me, too! "…and-and I can't afford you getting hurt or let anything happen to you even if I end up being the one who is causing you grief…" No, Rachel! I would never hurt you! You're too good to be hurt. I love you!"…though it has never been my intention to hurt you in any way to begin with. I just…" Rachel, please love me! I beg you! "…I just want you to be…" RACHEL! PLEASE!

"I understand, Dreamfinder." Rachel finally says. "We're both in a awkward place that neither of us had seen coming…sort of…I guess. Still, I think we should just put this all aside for now and focus on what's important right now: the sphere and the king. Besides, even if either one of us were in love with the other, or if at least you were in love with me, I hardly believe I'd be the one to deserve the receiving end of your affections given with what I've put you through."

DON'T SAY THAT, RACHEL!, Dreamfinder shouted in his thoughts with tears potentially beginning to form, YOU ARE WORTHY OF ME! I LOVE YOU! 

"Dreamer?"

"What?"

"Are you okay?"

"Y-yes, I'm fine. Why?"

"You look like you're about to cry."

"Well, I'm not! I'm…I'm… Look, let's just get this adventure over with. Okay?" he said with great frustration. He turns his head to their imaginary companions and shouts out to them. "FIGMENT! ALGAR! LET'S GO!"

And that was it. That is all that remained of the conversation. From both sides, their hearts feel broken despite the firm composure they struggle to keep up. Still, it's for the best. Rachel is right: the king and the geodesic sphere are what's most important right now. This ever-prolonging journey the recently-received adventure has become a heavy weight on their shoulders since they had arrived. Perhaps the curse this witch had placed upon this land might have something to with it. It has been causing quite a bit of grief on the locals for some time and may likely be taking effect on the group right now. Regardless of this, they decide to shrug it off for the time being and focus on the task at hand.

Leaving their shelter of a castle finally, they continue west to the place called Camlann, the supposed deathplace of the missing king. It has been a straight-forward trip with no interruptions nor having any other stranger chasing after them, thankfully. Nobody had said anything since they left, it was a quiet trip. The only excitement being entertained are Figment and Algar turning their attentions at either Rachel or Dreamfinder who both cannot help but glance at each other awkwardly. Neither the gryphon nor the dragon had any idea what this was all about nor realized what must have happened to them back at the castle when they were alone. In regards to this, they decided not to say anything further into the matter, fearing whatever they would say would only make things worse.

Through graying vast fields and lumping hills as the Dreamfinder rides upon the horse with all the rest of his friends flying about, they travel forth unharmed. The skies above are looking even duller than the previous day's, for all of the clouds keep growing darker and darker by the minute. The weaponsmith and Sister Gwen back in Amesbury have warned their supposed king and friends of the possible dangers that may come their way should they continue traveling upon their quest. These dark clouds colliding together appear as a very convincing omen that it may perhaps be the devilish work of the sorceress' curse. Feint sounds of thunder murmur in the clouds as tiny flashes of lightning can be hardly seem in small patches, a swift whirling whoosh is being blown by the wind's breath chilling our heroes and everything else in its path, and the trees and grass on the surface are roughly swaying chaotically pointing the direction the wind is heading, which is straight against where our heroes are coming from. But they are not stopped by all of this. They have already lost enough time in finding the missing king that they cannot afford to lose whatever time they have left. So long as they stick together with their weapons at hand and their imaginations ready for use in their minds, there is nothing that can stop all four of them from achieving their mission.

Soon, the Dreamfinder, Figment, Rachel and Algar arrive near a coastal area. It was a machair; a very flat, serene-looking plain with the exceptions of a few bushels of trees standing together along the slopes of the hills that leads to a sea mouth to the North Atlantic Sea. Another lake sits by, surrounded by trees, calm and silent with not a single ripple to disturb it. The darkness of the sky is near to matching the color pigments of the water it touches throughout the horizon, one side in crinkled ripples and the other in gloomy fluff. The Sun cannot be seen, no sign of wildlife are found; everything is completely still as if time itself had been stopped at this precise location.

Just yards away, they notice a sign written in stone. Rachel lands safely back down to the ground and runs towards the stone to read it. She had finally come to accept the strange fact of her apparent gift in reading different texts and languages from home, in different times and in different worlds. If only she had known she could do this while she was still in college. It would have easily helped get through it mush faster.

"H're ye standeth in the heart of Camlann, the final slumb'r of our king." said Rachel, as she reads through the faded stone. It seems the weather this curse has provided has made a number of rain and thunderstorms to smoothen the text, eroding the words out of existence as quickly as possible. "It looks like we finally made it."

"Hooray!" Figment cheers, as he flutters his tired wings and lands his whole self upon the grass.

"Excellent!" exclaimed Dreamfinder. "At least now we can finally take a breather. I think our equestrian friend here may be all tuckered out." And so it is. The horse they had borrowed from Basil had given a large nod and neighing in response to Dreamfinder's observation. Though it seems that Dreamfinder may have made that observation a little too late. The poor thing looks like it could topple over at any time with exhaustion and send Dreamfinder falling off to either side. "Let's find a spot to rest for a while before we get caught up in another storm like last night."

"And maybe find some food. I'm starving!"

"Ree-roo!" Algar groaned innocently. He can feel the constant grumbling in his little lion-halved tummy that can be heard by just about everyone.

"Aw buddy!" exclaimed Rachel with a sympathetic adoring awe. She reaches out to her little gryphon friend and hugs him in her arms. "My poor baby buddy boy." 

"Waaa-aaa-aak!" Algar cries angrily.

"I don't think Algar likes being treated like a child, Rachel." Dreamfinder chuckles.

"Hey! He's mine! I get to coddle him." Rachel plays, not letting the squirming Algar leave her grasp.

"Aw…is wittle baby Algar being mommy's wittle baby boy?" Figment teases.

"BARK-BARK-BARK-BARK-BARK-BARK-BARK-BARK-BARK-BARK-BARK-WAAAAAAAAAK!" Poor Algar explodes. It's clear that Algar is definitely not into being treated like a baby at all.

"Yikes! Take it easy, Algar! I was just kidding!"

"Alright, alright. Let's all take it easy right now." suggested Dreamfinder. "Rachel, why don't you and Algar set up camp while Figment and I find some game to feed on."

"Woah! Dreamfinder, you hunt?" said Rachel with shock.

"Of course! Back in my days in living in the country as a boy, my father and I used to go camping and hunt for deer meat. Though, I was never really into killing harmless animals, or any animal for that matter. I would be the one to scout out for the prey while my father, well…he'd take care of the rest."

"Cool! Sad, but cool!"

"Now all we need to catch our prey is stealth, a keen eye, and…and…" Dreamfinder is searching frantically behind his back and begins to worry. "Oh no…" He checks back to the satchels strapped onto the horse and searches through it like crazy, pushing every other piece of material there is in the process, but nothing has come up to his satisfaction. "Oh no, no, no!"

"What's wrong, Dreamfinder?" Figment worryingly asks.

"My sword is gone!" said Dreamfinder. "I must have left it back at the castle!"

"Are you serious?" Rachel loudly groans. "How are you supposed to hunt now?" Then she chuckles, "Not that I'm game with…well, finding game. Can't you just use your imagination to make a new one?"

"Capital idea, Rachel! Give me some room."

Everyone steps back for Dreamfinder. Making himself ready and comfortable, Dreamfinder clears his mind and takes a deep breath. With eyes tightly closed, his imagination comes into effect. Sparks begin to form at his fingertips into a ball. The Dreamfinder then starts molding this spark ball of imagination like a handful of clay into a sword-like shape to his liking. 

The sword appears in Dreamfinder's hands; a beautiful golden rimmed sword with a long heavenly-glowing silver blade and an intricate dragon design to hold on to with inserted rubies, emeralds and sapphires. The perfect blade fit for a supposedly-kingly Dreamfinder.

But suddenly, in the instant the sword had formed it immediately disassembled in a dark purplish-black void, melting into a bubbling black puddle of goop at his feet. 

"Wh-wh-what happened?!" stuttered Dreamfinder with disbelief. "My thoughts were clear and pure. It should have completely materialized without a problem by now."

"Blech!" Figment groans. "It's all goopy and bubbly."

Algar jumps off from Rachel's arms and approaches the puddle. He takes a couple sniffs and within seconds he starts to growl at it. There is definitely something about it that is not only not of Dreamfinder's doing, but also very bad.

"Whoa, Algar's growling." said Rachel with semi-widened eyes. "This isn't good."

"Hmm…whatever has caused my spark of inspiration to literally melt away must be a very powerful enough source to wipe out anything. Something is trying to stop us, so we must be close."

"Do you think it might be the curse?" Figment points out in question.

"As always, there must be a very reasonable explanation for this." said Dreamfinder with a nod. "So it's possible. There may also be a chance that science may not work out in our favor in this world- uh, I mean time."

"But imagination isn't necessarily all about science." said Figment. "The power of imagination comes in all different kinds of way. And each one of them has their own ways of making those different kinds work."

"In other words, imagination can have as many themes as it wants while these themes can have multitudes of things to help inspire it, right?" said Rachel, trying to clarify.

"Precisely!" said Dreamfinder. "While invention lies on the side of science, imagination lies with magic. But for some reason, this place doesn't seem to want our powers of imagination to interfere. As Figment said, this curse that the sorceress had conjured up may be the cause of this. That is our only lead for now if nothing else. If it isn't, then something else must be causing it."

"Nebulus." she thought to herself, as her nerves begin to shiver in her arms.

"Well, I don't believe it." Figment argues. "I still think the power of imagination is more than enough to solve every problem that comes in our way, including this curse. So what if you don't have a sword anymore, Dreamfinder. You of all people would know by now that imagination is the greatest weapon of all."

"You are right, Figment." Dreamfinder smiled. "Still, it would be nice to have a sword to protect us with. "

"And just where are we going to find a sword in the middle of nowhere?" Rachel asks.

"Hmm…hey!" Figment shouts. "There's one over there!"

And so there was. Across the distance and into the lake there is, indeed, another sword most suitable for Dreamfinder to use. And by the looks of it, it looks even grander than what he had imagined just now. It is a sword of great length, a streak of blue steel shooting with an inch-wide blade of a silvery-gold, also made of steel. The helm is gold, intricately painted and traced with a golden cross in the middle with a cobalt blue rounded triangle surrounding it and silver plates to fill in the gaps. The colors of the handle are of contrasting pattern from dark blue to yellow and so forth. And finally, the orb at the very bottom also has a dark blue and yellow pattern, but this time they are flowing in a wavy curviness that could easily manipulate a man's awareness of sight if he would to stare at it long enough.

The strange thing, however, is that the sword is being held right in the middle of the lake hiding within a large vast mist, glowing brightly upon and below the watery surface. And even more stranger there is a hand holding the sword from the water like someone is swimming underwater to hold the sword up for somebody. Astonished, the entire groups looks ahead at this sight. If this is not the most bizarre phenomenon they have encountered out of everything else they have seen in their journeys, then what is? So much for the wild boar being the winning the award for "Most Strangest Occurrence of the Day." Each with arched eyebrows lifting up above one of their eyes, the Dreamfinder, Figment, Rachel and Algar behold the sword of its magnificence and fantastic presence.

"Unbelievable!" exclaimed Dreamfinder.

"Okay, that's pretty neat!"


	8. Chapter 8

“Now THAT is a sword!” said Rachel with excitement in her voice.

“Astonishing!” said Dreamfinder with widened eyes.

“Ooooooh!” Algar whistles.

“That is the most beautiful sword I’ve ever seen!” shouted Figment happily. “But where did it come from?”

“Who cares?” said Rachel. “Let’s get it!”

Rachel runs off towards the lake to grab the sword for Dreamfinder. She figured that maybe this might serve as a peace offering for that accidental kiss earlier today. Simplicity itself: swim up, grab the sword, bring it to Dreamfinder, win the day, and live happily ever after. Rachel’s feet touch the water, but as she runs in knee deep the sword suddenly lowers back down into the heart of the lake, disappearing from plain sight.

“Huh? Where did it go?” Rachel asked aloud with confusion in her eyes.

“It’s gone!” said Figment.

“This sucks! How are we going to find a sword now?”

“There, there, Rachel.” Dreamfinder intervenes, trying to calm down his beloved friend. “It’s alright. With or without a sword, I’ll still protect all of you.” He walks up to her to give her a pat on the back when all of a sudden, the sword returns to sight! It rises back up from the water glimmering like starlight dullness of the gray waters. “What?”

“It’s back!” Rachel exclaimed.

“That’s strange. One moment it disappeared when you ran up to it, the next thing I came up and now it’s back.”

“So neat!” shouted Figment. “I’ll go get it!” Figment flies off across the lake to grab the sword, but once he was about to take it into his dragon-claw hands, it disappears all over again back underwater. “Darn! I almost had it!” But just as Figment had flown away back to his friends, the sword once again returns. “Huh?”

“Rie-rurn!” cawed Algar, as if saying, “My turn!” Faster than his wings could carry him like a rocket, as well as flying much faster than Figment did, Algar swoops down towards the hand that is holding the sword eager to grab its handle with his beak. But once again, the sword disappears into the water, eluding itself from Algar’s grasp. Defeated by his failure, Algar returns to his friends and perches onto Rachel’s shoulders with a sad sigh. “Aww…”

“There has to be a pattern to this.” said Dreamfinder to himself, stroking his beard.

“Your turn, Dreamy.” Figment calls out.

“What?”

“You haven’t tried to take the sword yet. Now’s your chance.”

“Very well.” Dreamfinder sighs.

Dreamfinder, being the last person to have the opportunity to retrieve the sword, prepares himself to make his attempt. He takes his shoes and socks, his hat, and whatever other accessory he was wearing, off and tosses them aside to avoid getting them wet. With the first splash of water soaking his feet, he readies himself to swim for it. But just as he was about to do it, something else has appeared through the foggy mists of the lake. A boat of carven brass shaped with the head of a woman and on either side the shapes of a swan’s wings, at great speed, floats smoothly across the lake. It swiftly approaches Dreamfinder and stops right in front of him. Nothing else is happening. The sword is still holding up in the middle of the lake and it would seem that this boat might be…

“I think it wants you to get on, Dreamfinder.” said Figment.

“Really? Me?” Dreamfinder questioned, receiving a nod from everyone. “Hmm…if this boat wants me to jump on, then maybe…you don’t suppose this boat will take me to the sword, do you?”

“Well, if it’s not here for the rest of us, it must be for you.”

“Rachel?”

“It’s worth a try, Dreamfinder.” said Rachel, knowing she is not alone in agreement as her head tilts to the side where Algar is perched, nodding his head. “You might as well take it while you can.”

“Alright then. I’ll go.” Dreamfinder said.

Dreamfinder lifts a leg into the boat hops aboard. He had found that there was already no one steering it; it was shown up and floated itself over to him as if by magic. And given the evidence that even with his attempts in using the powers of his imagination, the curse would not allow them to come true. So that just about rules that idea out. He thought perhaps that maybe there must be another source of magic at coming into play in this world. Some magic that must be calling out to him to approach it. Whatever the case, retrieving this sword must be the key to doing it.

As Dreamfinder made himself comfortable on the boat, he finds Rachel abruptly jumping onto the boat with him. That was unexpected. They know the sword will go away if Rachel gets too close. Thinking this it sounds like he figures the sword belongs specifically to him. Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. That doesn’t seem to stop Rachel, though.

“Rachel?” Dreamfinder exclaims.

“I’m just coming just in case something happens.” said Rachel with valor. “We don’t know what forces are making this sword show up and I don’t want to take any chances should something or someone bad shows itself.”

“Rachel…”

“Plus, I have a sword. And if that isn’t enough, Figment and Algar have got our backs. Figment can shoot with his bow and arrows and his fire breath if he can manage it. And Algar can peck the heck out of someone with his beak. We’ve got you covered.”

“Rachel, do you even know how to wield a sword?”

“Barely. Do you?”

“No, but-”

“Then there’s no point in arguing with me. Bottom line: you need a sword to aid you and for once I’ve got to make sure you stay out of trouble. You’ve done the same for me this whole time.”

“Alright, Rachel.” said Dreamfinder with defeat. “But stay close to me. I don’t want you getting hurt either.”

“Gotcha.” Rachel winked.

The boat then floats away from the shore to the sword in the water with Dreamfinder and Rachel onboard. Rachel braces her hand onto the handle of her own sword, ready to slice whatever may come their way if necessary. A hard lump is caught in Dreamfinder’s throat, but he maintains to keep a straight face intact as they go on. His thoughts are racing of what’s to come. What if the sword leaves him, too? What if he can’t protect the ones he loves. That’s preposterous! One way or another, Dreamfinder would- no, will find a way to protect his friends. Still, even if he can, would that be enough to save the kingdom from this curse? Or even confront the sorceress responsible for causing it? Dreamfinder’s face begins to sweat. His worries are beginning to overwhelm him. He looks at Rachel, who is also forming a bit of sweat upon her forehead, and then takes her hand in his. With a reassuring look on his smile, he tries to convince his girl that everything will be all right whether or not the sword will be his. Now if only he can work with trying to convince himself the same advice.

The moment has set the mood for them. The eeriness building up in the form of this mist has grown thicker with each puff it produces. The sky has gotten darker and grayer as they inch closer to the sword. The wind has intensified, enforcing the trees to be roughly blown like they could easily be pulled away from the ground, roots in all. There is no sign of the sun, nor even a shimmering sky to shed some form for light, which makes it all the more mysterious as to how the sword could glow ever so brightly without it. The lake became unsettled as ripples that form around the hand that is carrying the sword grow bigger and bigger, forming into rumpled waves to cause the boat to teeter left and right as they got closer. 

They slowly approach the sword, still being held up high and proud. Dreamfinder had only so much room between himself on the boat and the sword above the lake. He takes a deep breath and reaches his arm out to take hold of the sword. That was until Rachel had tripped over on the boat by accident and had her hand reached out closer to the sword’s handle by accident. Thus, having done so unintentionally, it still defied her the excuse to have grabbed the sword for Dreamfinder if she could have, for now the sword has abruptly been pulled back down underwater and out of reach. Angered, Rachel had only to shout in her own disgust.

“The sword!” Dreamfinder gasps.

“OH, NO YOU DON’T!” Rachel shouted.

Quickly and without thinking, Rachel hands her sword over to Dreamfinder, takes a deep breath, jumps off the boat and dives into the water after the sword! In his shock, the Dreamfinder calls out her name beckoning her to come back, but Rachel did not listen. She was already swimming too deep underwater to hear what he had to say. All that remains of her now is a bundle of bubbles rising from below and up to the level surface, declaring itself as the possible last remaining remnants of her life.

********************************************************************************************************

Rachel, with her eyes open to see in spite of the water blurring her vision, plunges deeper and deeper to get the sword. She hardly thought or cared about how much air she had inhaled or had left. All that she had with her in achieving this shenanigan is her persistence not to fail Dreamfinder, Figment, or Algar.

Down, down, down they go. It’s clear that whatever, or whoever, is pulling the sword down with it, there is at least a body the hand belongs to. For past where the hand would have an elbow, a dark mist is shrouding around whatever it is connected to. If they weren’t underwater, Rachel would have given herself enough time to think over what, how and why the being is taunting them with the sword’s presence only to be drawn back below like it’s a game. But putting it all aside, she lunges down further to retrieve Dreamfinder’s prize.

Having swum close enough, she kicks her feet harder and reaches her arm out again. She grasps onto the handle of the sword finally and making sure the blade is not aimed directly at her, she pulls the sword upward and tries to swim away. The hand from the shroud, however, is still holding tightly to the sword and would not let go. Whatever reason it wouldn’t give in, it clearly does not want Rachel to intercept. It all became a matter of playing tug-a-war from there with Rachel pulling the sword up to her and the hand pulling down to it. Time is running out for Rachel. She only consumed so much air that she could give out at any moment. What would seem like playing dirty is Rachel’s last chance of surviving long enough to resurface to the top. Her right leg swishes for a kick below her and hits against the lower unseen half of the arm the hand is connected to. It was a solid hit, too. There must be a solid body in control of the sword’s fate. A hand itself could not possibly be responsible in guarding this magnificent weapon. And given the fact of how this sword might be seldom seen by anyone on land and how glorious-looking it is, the being guarding the sword must indeed be very very powerful. But putting her thoughts aside to think of herself and her survival, Rachel holds the sword with the blade facing downward in case whatever is below her would try to strike her and scurries back up to the open air to Dreamfinder. Little did she know that the creature that had guarded this sword for how long would be following right behind her.

********************************************************************************************************

Dreamfinder, Figment and Algar have been searching frantically for Rachel since she jumped into the lake. For two straight minutes, there was no sign of her. The bubbles from Rachel’s breath were still rising, but it still did not convince any of them to stop worrying for her. Having been gone for this long underwater, she could be starting to drown at any second! Enough was enough. Dreamfinder stands up on the boat, making himself ready to dive into the water after her.

But just as Dreamfinder was about to do that, the sword had reappeared above the surface the same way as it did before. The only difference is whose hand is holding it up. Rachel’s head pops out of the water, gasping for breath and having her legs kicking vigorously to keep her up from sinking back down. A large smile forms on her face, growing bigger for her victory in bringing back the sword to her friends.

“Rachel!” everyone exclaims.

“I got it!” Rachel happily shouts, as she hands the sword over to Dreamfinder.

“Thank goodness you’re okay!” said Dreamfinder, relieved to see his beloved girl safe. “Hurry up onboard. We’ve got to get you dry and warmed up.”

But that was not meant to be. As Dreamfinder was about to pull Rachel back up into the boat, a mass of bubbles begins to form behind Rachel. At first, Figment had taken notice, then Algar, and then Dreamfinder. All with worried faces drawn upon them, they froze. They did not know what was coming up from the water and had taken little notice as to whether Rachel had gotten onto the boat or not. All they could do was grunt and whine with a worrying uneasiness in their faces and their tones.

“Uhh…Rachel?” Figment whines in a higher pitched tone higher than his usual one.

Confused, Rachel had studied faces and found there was something wrong going on. They seem to be looking at something that none of them would have comprehended. She turns her head to look behind her and right at her face there was another. 

A woman’s face, and a beautiful looking one at that despite her apparent appearance with her skin as blue and pale as death and her hair as black a night draping down to the watery surface like cascading waterfalls, is staring angrily at Rachel with clouded gray eyes and cold crinkled dark blues lips. This must be the being that was holding the sword up to them. As if believing that Rachel had supposedly stolen the sword from her, and perhaps she has, it would evidently be regarded that this lady of the lake wants it back. Rachel, who has now adopted the same expression as did her friends internally, had only thought in mind to lighten the mood as best as possible. 

“This lake ain’t big enough for the two of us.” teased Rachel in a western accent. But seeing as thought the lady was not amused, she frowns in her failed attempt and gulps.

The lake lady quickly plunges down underwater out of sight from her enemies. In a split second, it grabs onto Rachel’s ankles and pulls her down with her. Gasping for more breath in her shock, Rachel screams out for her friends to grab her arms and help her back into the boat quickly. But they were too late. By the time, they had collected whatever bearings they could get to help her Rachel had already disappeared once again at the mercy of her fateful tormentor.

********************************************************************************************************

With every shred of might she has left, Rachel struggles to break from the lake lady’s grasp. She tries kicking her way free, but the lady would not let her go. The lady, with her facial expression unaffected by the “thief’s” attempts to struggle free, sinks lower and lower from the surface pulling Rachel down with her. She intends to her straight up drown her mercilessly to her doom. This frightens Rachel greatly. What was she thinking going after the sword that was more or less possibly for Dreamfinder? Dreamfinder should have been the one to achieve wielding the sword from the lake lady’s hand. Then again, he probably would have faced the same fate she is. 

The lady is clawing Rachel in a frenzy against her clothes until they reach her flesh. The scratches she makes are stinging Rachel like knives with every slash it makes, reaching throughout every vein in Rachel’s body. A few cuts are made; most of them are small but deep enough for some blood to leak out. Whatever tears of agony are forming in Rachel’s eyes they mix with the water of this lake and her own blood. Her thoughts are racing within every fiber of her brain, imagining the worst of what’s to come: prolonging pain, more blood, more stinging, death, Dreamfinder, Figment and Algar worrying over the fact that she may not make it out of this alive. She can feel whatever is left of the blood in her body run cold. Rachel decides she cannot take this pain any longer. She has to stay strong. She cannot give up! She has to fight! Rachel then tries once again to kick the lake lady away to break free and swim away to safety. At last, in her success, the kick she blows is delivered onto the lady’s stomach.

But this success has become short-lived, for just when Rachel was about to flee to the surface her eyes widen with horror as the sight of multiple women floating very still surrounding her like death reach her eyes. Are these all ladies of this lake? Are they sirens? They couldn’t possibly be sirens since none of them have been singing any of the men to their death, men as in Dreamfinder with two imaginary friends with male characters, nor even have any fish tails. Wait, do sirens even have tails? None of that is important. The point is that these freaky-looking women, got to be six or seven of them present, are coming in all around her with death written in each of their faces.

Some of these women have very dark hair, black as night, while the rest of the others are either blonde or ginger red. Their skins are as pale as the moon and whiter than the brightest and coldest snow. Their dark blemished eyes match in pairs as a sign that each one of them must have faced death before and have accepted it as their fate. The dresses they wear drape below past their bare feet as they float in the same rhythm as their hair: long and wild. Their lips match the first lady’s lips as blue as the darkest ocean abyss. All of their deceivingly shrouded eyes of gray stare Rachel down as the target of their most certain hate. The extra accessories of seaweed are wrapped around these women in their own different styles. Some of them are wrapped behind the neck, the waist or even over the shoulder and around the waist like a toga. It did not matter as much, though. However they are settled, they all gave Rachel the impression that these women have been living underwater for a very very long time.

It’s six against one, an unfair fight. Poor Rachel is running out of air in her lungs. She fears if she were to struggling swimming away, these lake women would all gang up on her and drag her down even further to the lake’s floor. But if Rachel were to stay where she is, would that make much of a difference. She had to choose. Should Rachel stay or should she go? Swim for life or give in to death? Either way, there would probably be no way to win.

Before Rachel could decide, the lake women altogether start to shriek. Their voices pierce loud enough to resemble the high-pitch tone that could break glass and scratch loud screeches on a chalkboard. Rachel abruptly plugs her ears to close off this painful sound, but it was no use. It’s the kind of sound loud enough to even reach up to Dreamfinder and Figment and Algar or possibly everyone within a fifty-mile radius. As they shriek, the ladies charge at Rachel with their claw-nail hands and loud voices ready to wrap, claw and tangle her in a tumble, grabbing her hair and her arms and legs. Together, they continue dragging Rachel down to lakebed leaving a trail of Rachel’s last remaining bubbling beads of life rising to the surface. There was no sun in the sky on the other side she could say goodbye or reach her hand out to. How badly she really feels to get out of there. All of this just for a sword? Granted, the sword was sublime to look at and hold in her hands, but still!

The girl’s eyes slowly begin to close. The last bubble of breath had left her body and out of her mouth to the watery ceiling and out of reach. There was no sense in fighting these lake women anymore. They have caught her in the act of taking the sword and now she is about to accept her punishment. She mutters her last words, hoping at least someone could hear her…someone very special to her as of late.

 

…Dreamfinder…I’m sorry…Blarion…Blair, save me…

 

It’s no use. How can Dreamfinder even hear her underwater anyway? The least that could happen is if Dreamfinder had noticed her breath bubbles aren’t rising anymore and he’d come dive in and save her. Though if he did, would she make it? Would he make it in time before Rachel would drown? Probably not, but Rachel has got to bring up whatever faith she must have left. She tries her imagination and mutters Dreamfinder’s name to picture his image. His kind and sun-filled smile, his ocean blue eyes, his curly ginger mustache and hair, his warm embrace, and the lips she had kissed previously. That was the tip of the iceberg for her. Rachel has tried and tried to picture Dreamfinder to come and rescue her, but nothing was happening. The lake women are still mauling her, burying her alive within the liquid depths of her demise.

Suddenly, as Rachel was just about to give up all hope, a spark of light begins to ignite within her heart. Its traces of warmth are trailing through her veins all over again, consuming all of the open holes and cuts the lake women had made for her blood to spew. Rachel’s body is being consumed into pure whiteness, glowing brighter and brighter as it blinds every one of the lake women that is holding her. Her consciousness is depleting from her surrounding, but instead of feeling the touch of death a breath of life is being revived. Rachel— no, Fantasia opens its eyes once again, returning to the scene of existence in place of its host.

But unlike the last time Fantasia had taken over Rachel, the light on Fantasia’s body flickers with a flurry of rage inside its eyes at the sight of Rachel aggressors trying to do her arm. The lake women were stunned. They did not realize that they were in the presence of a being that may be even more powerful than themselves. Their shock had still not cured these women of their desire to let Rachel go, hence having their arms and hands still clasped together onto the white spirit’s being. Fantasia curls into a ball, flickering wildly like a bonfire in a forest with a spark of energy charging in her chest, and just like that Fantasia releases its power against the lake women, pushing them away from itself and Rachel. A fantastic force has blown all the lake women away from Fantasia several yards away from their prey until there were all knocked out by whatever large object had come up crashing behind them. They didn’t know what had hit them! And given the condition they were all in, they did not want to find out. Once again, Fantasia had saved Rachel in a way Rachel would not have expected, let alone not have known. Inside she was safe within Fantasia's form from these wicked witches of the deep, but she was not out of the woods yet.

********************************************************************************************************

The last bubble Rachel had breathed had just arrived upon the colorless coat the boat carrying Dreamfinder, Figment and Algar is sitting upon without any more bubbles following up behind it. All was still in a matter of seconds, which has made everyone gasp in horror. Most of all, Dreamfinder.

“Rachel! RACHEL!” Dreamfinder cries.

“Oh no!” Figment also cries with Algar shrieking alongside him.

“Hang on, Rachel! I’m coming!”

Dreamfinder stands up in the middle of the boat as was about to dive into the water to save Rachel when a rumbling from below started to make the boat shake. He tumbles backwards, landing top of the little dragon and gryphon as the boat rocks up and down with the rising and falling ripples from the intensifying earth shake. 

A bright light illuminates from deep within the lake. In a split second, Fantasia shoots out of the lake and into the air like a cannon over the remaining heroes with a wave of water droplets falling behind it. The dream-finding supposed king and two dream-made inventees look over them watching Fantasia heading straight for the shore of the machair.

“Hey! It’s Fantasia again!” shouted Figment.

“Fantasia…” Dreamfinder mutters. Then upon a sudden realization, he gasps deeply with widened eyes. “…Rachel!”

With little effort in his arms, the Dreamfinder turns the boat around and has Figment and Algar helping him row the boat back the shore to meet with Fantasia. In his desperateness, the Dreamfinder is rowing the fastest. He thought back the recent events of Fantasia’s appearance and figured ‘if Fantasia is here, then Rachel is safe!…hopefully.

Fantasia arrives upon the plain floating over to the nearest tree with Dreamfinder and the imaginary friends coming up behind it. It weakly nestles itself at the base of the trunk, tumbling down as if it missed a step. The others have approached Fantasia filled with worry in their eyes. Fantasia looks hurt, they thought. It’s lying below them slowly panting with its heavy glowing eyes quickly dimming as they close. Shivering, possibly from the cold water from the lake Fantasia begins to whimper in pain, freezing tortuously. 

“Fantasia? Are you okay?” Figment asks anxiously, not receiving an answer back.

“It’s freezing!” Dreamfinder proclaims. “Algar, can you grab my jacket from the sack?”

“Uh huh!” Algar quickly nods. 

In the quick pace, Algar speeds over to sack to grab Dreamfinder’s blue jacket. As he arrives, he notices the sack is strapped to the horse. Given that gryphons don’t like being around horses, for whatever reason, it makes it all the harder for Algar to accomplish this mission. But he has to get the jacket for Fantasia and possibly for Rachel, too. There is no telling what might happen to his creator if Fantasia isn’t saved first. Reluctant with a sigh coming out of his breath, Algar inches himself closer to the horse without startling it. He carefully, opens the sack, grabs the jacket, and without hesitation returns to the Dreamfinder and Figment with Fantasia.

Dreamfinder retrieves his jacket, wrapping around Fantasia and holding it in his arms to keep it warm. But poor Fantasia is still shivering. The temperature from the lake must have been super cold--enough to reach arctic climate. Dreamfinder, worried that perhaps even Rachel must be freezing inside Fantasia too, decides to quickly rub his hands over Fantasia’s arms to gain friction for warmth. But suddenly, Fantasia stops him, grabbing Dreamfinder’s hand by the wrist. In its own language, it speaks both softly and solemnly to Dreamfinder.

“It’s not that kind of cold.” said Figment unexpectedly.

“What?” said a softly gasping Dreamfinder.

“Fantasia says it’s not that kind of cold it’s freezing from.”

“So the lake isn’t what’s freezing Fantasia? How can that be? If the lake isn’t what’s freezing Fantasia, then what is?”

“Hmm…” Figment listens closely to Fantasia’s words, words unknown to Dreamfinder’s own dialect. He slowly lifts up his head with his big yellow eyes widened and says, “Fear…and Death.”

“What?!” both Dreamfinder and Algar exclaim.

“That’s what Fantasia said!”

“Fantasia!” said Dreamfinder, looking down to the white spirit with great worry. “Is Rachel…is she…?”

Without giving an answer, Fantasia’s body glows brightly all over again. Its eyes are clenched closed and its arms wrapped tightly around it. Multiple rays of light illuminate out of Fantasia so bright as if it is being engulfed, spreading apart and casting away like ripples in a pond with immense warmth. Everyone covers their eyes, avoiding from becoming blind. As tender and calm this wave of warmth feels, one cannot help but look away from it. Finally, the light is receding and the entire party is allowed to look at their victim again. But when they turn their eyes back down to their unfortunate friend, it was not Fantasia they had come to view again, but Rachel, clothes torn, badly scratched, very pale and almost lifeless.

“Rachel!” Dreamfinder cries. 

But Rachel did not answer. It’s possible she might be dead seeing as how she looks. They look down at her with horror, especially Dreamfinder who loves her so. What happened in there, they all thought? What did that watery hag do to this poor girl? And for what? A thick but lanky streak of metal used to kill?

Her tender skin is as blue and cold as ice, freezing as she is mercilessly soaked and drenched through her ruined clothes. Her light brown hair is now colored to a very dark brown, possibly black, as it has been drowned from the watery depths. And given that there are some blood spots in her head, her hair must have been ruthlessly pulled by the lake lady while they were underwater. 

For sure, Rachel must be dead. There isn’t a single breath coming out of her to determine her continuance of life. Dreamfinder cannot help but cry. Tears are cascading down his eyes and land atop of Rachel’s forehead. His heart is broken at the sight of this poor girl in this state. How foolish could he have been, going after the sword and then letting that witch pull her to her death in his stead. This was a big mistake. A HUGE MISTAKE! Dreamfinder lifts Rachel’s in his arms as he sits beside her with whatever little comfort there is left. His constant sobbing has encouraged Figment and Algar to join him in mourning. Algar let out a howling cry to the sky like a wolf would do. After all, he is part dog. But Figment was the only one of the three who would not believe this. He shakes his head vigorously, angered at this scene. If only he were a stronger dragon then he would have gone after Rachel and saved her from the lake lady and her apparent accomplices. She would have still been wounded, but at least she would have been safe. But then…

 

COUGH! COUGH! COUGH!

 

All of sudden, water is spewing out from Rachel’s mouth, gasping for air. Her pale skin is slowly restoring to a light peach tone. Her eyes blink open, revealing the refreshing chocolate pools creamily glittering into the light of day with her friends waiting for her. Dreamfinder could not believe it. None of them could! Rachel is alive! She survived the lake lady’s wrath! But how?! Both Figment and Algar begin to cheer with the greatest heights of spirits celebrating their friend’s life, while Dreamfinder alone is just sitting there stunned with shock. Seeing as how Rachel had somehow survived a death-defying affair once again has his heart constantly building and breaking in a fast pace over and over again enough to overwhelm him and pass out with a heart attack. Trails of tears continue to fall down both of his cheeks, as he is clearly unable to control them. 

 

“Rachel…”


	9. Chapter 9

"ROORAY!!!" Algar shrieks, being the first to cheer with relief for his creator's survival.

"Rachel! You're okay!" shouted Figment, also filled with glee.

Rachel, who is still lying there before her friends motionless is still coughing up all of the water she had inhaled while drowning in the lake underwater by the wicked lake women. Thanks to Fantasia's last-ditch effort to save Rachel, her skin is returning to its pre-peach-colored state. Once again, Rachel had just survived another death-defying escape in place of her friends from getting hurt. Her blood, in spite of getting warmed up again right now, has been chilling tremendously in Rachel's attempt to retrieve the apparently-destined sword, which she succeeded in doing. The blueness in her lips are changing back to a rosy pink shade. The soiling patches of blood on her head have been closed and miraculously healed out of Fantasia's magic. Her eyes slowly open once more, peering directly above and realizing she is being gently cradled in her potential rescuer's arms. While being warmly kissed and nuzzled on both sides of her frozen cheeks by both Algar and Figment.

Bewildered and astonished by Rachel's not-so-near-serendipitous escape from deep within the lake, the Dreamfinder stares down at Rachel in her slowly-depleting pitiful state as his mind starts ferociously swirling with tainted mixed emotions: fear, relief, anger, tension, and euphoria. The tears that had formed in his eyes have fallen nonstop, dropping down one by one like raindrops onto Rachel's face. His bearded face clenches tightly in an anguished frustration despite his overall internal relief of Rachel's safety. This sort of predicament has happened more to Rachel than enough times throughout this journey into imagination: the "Wily-Wooso" deception in Fillidore during their first adventure, the time Governor Crizwalke dropped Rachel from the top of his thousand-foot tall building, when the Doubt Monster sprang out and attacked and all it got out of it was a one-way ticket to banishment back into the Bewilderness. Just one life-threatening event after another. It's been so bad it's not even funny. And for the most of it, it had been no one but Rachel to step up and take the fall for his friends. Ergo, since Dreamfinder had insisted on taking care and protecting Rachel from all possible harm, the thought of Rachel intervening in these while heading straight for her demise has his mind and conscious weighing on him like tens of tons of bricks.

The Dreamfinder clenches his teeth, trying his best to hold back more of his tears, but he couldn't hold them back. He grips his fingers through the fabric on Rachel's shoulders and buries his face to weep the tears over Rachel's chest. Once again, he had almost lost the woman he loves and once again, he is given a second chance to protect her again.

"Dreamy…?" muttered Rachel with a weakly faint whisper and a small smile. "I…I got you the sword. …Happy?"

"Happy?!" Dreamfinder angrily cries. "How could you think I could be…I almost…I almost lost you! I almost lost you again over…over what? That stupid sword?! Am I to believe you think of me as selfish?"

"No…no, not selfish. Blessed."

"Blessed?!"

"To have a friend who would do anything for her friends…whether it's to protect them…" snickering the, she finishes, "…or even grab a sword from a flock of freaky lake women."

Dreamfinder, unable to contain himself any longer, he grabs Rachel by her shirt collar and screams, "Don't you EVER do that again! Do you hear me?! I can't afford to bear another moment of horror when you…you…"

Finally, the Dreamfinder, making with the waterworks out of his most-certain weakness, he buries his face between Rachel's left side of her neck and shoulder as he makes his way down with his eyes clamped shut against Rachel's heart. This surprised everyone; Figment especially. He had never seen Dreamfinder act like this before. Most of the time he'd see Dreamfinder cry, it'd happen when the Dreamfinder would find himself in a situation where his greatest dreams, or even his own self-esteem, would plummet down for the worst. In the end, the Dreamfinder would succeed over such problems, further justifying the name and career change from being Blarion Mercurial to Dreamfinder for it. But this time is different. Figment had known this whole time how madly in love Dreamfinder is for Rachel, but he never realized how mad it really is. This scene right here, to Figment, is truly intense and it's likely this secret love overflow is overwhelming him.

The Dreamfinder lifts his head back, blubbering through his quivering lips with his eyes flooding with tears as he continually watches Rachel smiling sweetly to him. She finally sees how deeply the Dreamfinder cares for her. Weakly lifting her battered hand to run her fingers through her host's hair and the bristles of his beard, she thinks back to the dream she had last night and recognizes something about it…something special. Before Rachel had woken up this morning, she imagined herself being carried to a soft grassy patch being delicately set down onto her back with Dreamfinder hovering above her. Their eyes had met and locked together to even past the point where they'd passionately kiss to their young hearts' content. Both of these dreamy blissfulments have led to this very moment as Rachel's Dreamfinder is sitting over her and holding her tightly while crying. Whether she liked it or not, Rachel's dream is coming true. And for once, she is okay with it.

"Please…don’t do this to me again!" Dreamfinder quietly bawls.

Rachel nodded as she mustered whatever strength she could to hug him, but in her mind, she wanted to say, "Yes, dearest."

As Rachel made herself comfortable, snuggling her arms and the cheeks on her scratched-up face to Dreamfinder's warm chest, the rest of the group set up camp. They each took turns taking care of Rachel, patching up her wounds, while the remaining two made sure they had everything they needed. Dreamfinder would handle the more laborious jobs: hunting game and chopping trees to build a shelter. Figment would assist Algar in finding smaller sticks for firewood and then breathe whatever fiery breath he could muster to make a campfire.

Algar has taken his job seriously in guarding Rachel with his life. He would pace back and forth or in a circle around so no unexpected person or creature would come out of nowhere and pounce on her. If there is anyone Algar would allow to pounce onto his own creator, it's himself. Sometimes Algar would notice Rachel shivering by herself without anything to cover her with, so he would crawl over to her side or perch over her body with one or both of Rachel's arms wrapped over him to her safe and warm with his company. Rachel, in her unconsciousness, can only imagine how both Dreamfinder and Figment must be so appreciative of each other for their company and the dedication to one another for their cause. What Algar is doing for Rachel must be what Figment would do for Dreamfinder, or Dreamfinder for Figment, should they ever come across such dangerous or drastic perils. When Dreamfinder would call out for Algar's assistance, Figment would take over to watch over Rachel, while Algar would sniff out prey for Dreamfinder to catch and bring back to the camp, thanks to the sword Rachel had risked her life to retrieve for him.

Soon, the chores of camping have been fulfilled just in time for another storm, a more merciful sprinkling storm, to emerge and everyone can finally relax in the shelter the Dreamfinder had built for them. Dreamfinder had taken over in taking care of Rachel underneath the shelter to recover, the Figment took charge of keeping the fire going and calming down Basil's horse, while Algar continued taking watch. For all they know, the lake women would probably sneak up and attack everyone without them realizing it. Rachel's wounds have finally been tended to. She is sitting comfortably settled with her back against Dreamfinder's frontside and Dreamfinder's gentle arms wrapped around her. His warm soft-beating heart, finally calming down after the traumatic shock in the lake earlier today, has soothed her senses ultimately. Being held like this in support, Rachel cannot help but smile in such a sweet charm. Dreamfinder had taken notice of this. Most times, when someone, with Rachel as no exception, goes through a traumatic experience, a considerable amount of fear would still be rushing through their blood already bone-chilled to the masses. But this moment is very different instead. For some reason, Rachel is taking this rather smoothly. She is so calm, Dreamfinder thought. How can Rachel possibly be smiling at a time like this?

"You're so warm, Dreamfinder." Rachel murmured warmly, cuddling snuggly as she wraps Dreamfinder's arm more firmly around her. "…Tighter. Please, hold me tighter."

"Rachel! Are you alright?" Dreamfinder asks calmly, doing what she has asked to give her comfort.

"I couldn't be better. Thank you."

"You really scared us back there, Rachel. Why would you jump into the lake like that?"

"I made a mistake on the boat and I couldn't just let that bit-"

"Rachel! Really! Not in front of Figment and Algar!"

"Hee-hee…sorry. I couldn't just let that lake witch tease us, take the sword with her, and get away with it. The sword was clearly supposed to be given to you. If it weren't for me taking that misstep with my stance, you would have had the sword in your hands right then and it would've all ended well. I was trying to make up for my mistake."

"That's understandable," said Dreamfinder, "but you really shouldn't have done that. If anything had happened to you, not only would I be held responsible, but I…I…"  
"I understand, Dreamfinder." said Rachel. "I'm sorry."

"But I must say, you were very brave." He said with a reluctant smile. "Just like the other times you stood up for us, you took a stand against the worst of odds despite your own objections and even your own self-proclaimed lack of ingenuity. Honestly, I can't tell if it’s either sheer will or instinct that has taken over you every time this happens, including now. Am I wrong?"

"No, Dreamy. You're not wrong, but there is more."

Dreamy?, Dreamfinder thought with a sudden surprise written in his face. She has never called him that before.

"Oh? And what's that?" he asked aloud.

"Simple. It's because of you. You brought me back here and have been keeping me warm this whole time. Both you and the others have done so much to make me feel comfortable. I hadn't realized entirely up until now how much you really care about me. That kiss from earlier was unexpected and I highly doubt either of us meant for that to happen. I couldn't help but feel guilty over that, especially since that talk earlier this morning didn't go so well. So I thought getting the sword back for you would help make amends for that."

"…Not to be rude, but that very last part is kind of stupid." said Dreamfinder with an unconvincing frown.

"I know." said Rachel with a soft giggle. "To be fair, I only wanted to put things back to normal with the best intention I had, so I thought it made sense for me at the time. I guess going through that whole mess underwater made me realize how I hadn't thought this through well enough. I sure got my just desserts right there, didn't I?"

"Rachel…"

"Just as well. It was sort of a last-minute attempt that wasn't thoroughly planned anyway, so it's understandable if you're still irritated about what happened earlier today. And probably even worse now that I've given you a near-certain heart attack while I was drowning. It…It's cool. I deserve it."

Heartbroken and befuddled by Rachel's self-placement of guilt, the Dreamfinder has been put on the spot in a state of pity. Sure, she had him worried, but he had to admit: it's unfair of Rachel to blame herself for doing something she thought was right even if there was no way out of it in the end. She did what she had to do for Dreamfinder's sake, at the very least. The beautifully illuminating sword she had retrieved would have, and it will, helped Dreamfinder in the quest to find the missing king of Medieval England and protect his friends along the way. Still, what good would that have done for him if at least one of his group, any one of the people he loves more than anything, take the fall for him for his advantage? Nothing, of course. It wouldn't be worth it. It wouldn't be worth going through all the trouble to protect while having to sacrifice someone to do it.

The conversation is not getting them anywhere. It's only filling the air with even more negativity inside of them than the curse alone that is plaguing this land--enough to even put both Figment and Algar in a sour mood in their hearts. Perhaps a change of topic is in order. It might give Dreamfinder the excuse from stressing out on what to say next that could potentially destroy Rachel's esteem.

"Then at least let me thank you." said Dreamfinder, running a finger to run a strand of Rachel's hair over her ear. "If it weren't for you, Algar, Figment and I would not have been able to set up camp and find food."

"Cool." muttered Rachel with a smile. "Just so long as what I just did wasn't in vain. So what's our status?"

"Um…for the moment, we are just taking a break from all the drama that had just happened. The good news is that we've finally made it to Camlann and obtained the sword from the lake in front of us. I believe we're close to finally finding the king we've been searching for. The question is…what now?"

"The sword must be important somehow." said Figment.

The little purple dragon had overheard the conversation going on behind him after he had finally got he horse to calm down. He flutters towards his friends with his tiny wings flapping ever so quickly with Algar coming up behind him. He fixes his little green Robin Hood hat and tunic from getting wrinkled and slightly wet from the rain outside, taking pride in his physical presence. The gryphon returns to Rachel's embrace, gently and slowly crawling over her body into her arms and nudging his eagle beak above Rachel's chest.

"You think so, too. Do you, Figment?" Dreamfinder asks.

"Yep!" said Figment with a smile. "And so does Algar."

"Uh-huh! Uh-huh!" Algar cackled with a nod for 'yes.'

"It has to be." said Rachel. "I don't think it wouldn't have risen out of the water in the lake just to show off."

"Indeed." said Dreamfinder with a confusingly determined look on his face. "Still…it's killing me not to know, but I can't shake the feeling there is something strangely familiar about this place. There are more than enough details for my suspicions to be considered: a wicked sorceress, a missing king, a magic curse spreading across the land, not the mention that freak screaming knight trying to do us all over, and now this marvelous sword coming straight from this lake of all places. I swear I know this from someplace! But where?"

He is not the only one. Like Dreamfinder, the rest of the group are stumped with their brains all in a fuddle. With even all of this evidence coming together, not one of them could figure what the heck is going on. Everything had been laid out in front of them. All that is left to wonder is how and why they are connected. It is quite a pickle the Dream group had come across. It may be their most puzzling predicament they have ever faced so far. And that is saying something considering their overall mission to finding Spaceship Earth the geodesic sphere from the Academy Scientifica-Lucidus back in Florida. As they continue to think this through, it was not until five minutes later when Basil's horse starting whining a few feet away. The Dreamfinder looks over Figment and realizes a small amount of flooding, perhaps about a foot-high, rising from the surface of the lake by the rainstorm. To him and Figment, this was no news. They had been through this situation before during their first journey into imagination. Something they call a legitimate brainstorm.

"We might be thinking this way too hard." said Dreamfinder.

"How can you tell?" said Rachel.

"Look over there!"

"…Whoa! The ground is flooding with water!" shouted Figment.

"But how?" Rachel asks. "The rain couldn't be THAT strong!"

"Not unless we are causing it." countered Dreamfinder.

"What is it?"

"A brainstorm!"

"Are you serious?" she said allowed. But then Rachel thought to herself, "Oh! That's right! Yuna told me something about how brainstorms work earlier before. It would make sense if that is what's happening now."

"Oh yeah!" shouted Figment. "I remember now! We went through one of those at the very beginning of our adventure! That was fun, though! You remember that, too, Dreamfinder?"

"I do." said Dreamfinder with a firm concerned tone. "Which is why we need to stop thinking for a second and start from scratch."

"Will that work?" asked Rachel.

"I believe so. Otherwise, I hardly think our poor horse companion will ever calm down for all our sakes. Everyone! Stop thinking!"

They do as Dreamfinder told them to do and sure enough, the rain settled down a little. The flood had stopped rising and the horse stopped whining. It may not have been a huge ordeal, but at least they are safe. It was bad enough Rachel had nearly drowned to death inside a lake that it would be bad for everyone to have died in a flood of their own unintentional cause. To makes things better, the rain had stopped and a golden-orange sun has cleared away much of the gloomy clouds as it begins to descend down the horizon.

"Whew!" Dreamfinder said. "That was close."

"That's weird." said Rachel with a crinkled arched brow.

"What is it, Rachel?"

"We just stopped imagining our problems in order to stop the flooding, further proving we were using our imaginations just now. But if this is the case, then how come Dreamfinder's imaginary sword wasn't able to come out in solid form a couple of hours ago?"

"Hmm…that IS puzzling!" exclaimed Figment. "I wonder why that is."

"I don't know," said Dreamfinder, stroking his beard, "but I have a feeling we might be able to solve this mystery sometime soon."

"Ooooooh!" Algar cawed out, admiring the view of the sunset from the machair.

"Wowie-wow!" said Figment with delight.

"What a gorgeous sunset!" said Dreamfinder with a large smile on his face. "It may be the only redeeming sight we have seen in this world so far." As the Dreamfinder is holding Rachel with one arm, the sword that is sitting at his right side starts to glow brightly, reflecting the light from the sun's illumination. Noticing this, the Dreamfinder tilts his eyes down to it, lifts the sword in his hand and says, "Eh? What's this?"

All at once, the light shining from the sun has found its way to reflect into this beautiful sword that Rachel had retrieved. The Dreamfinder lifts the sword into the air above the group. Its glistening glitter of wonder sparkles and shines like the stars in space magnetized and orbiting around this golden tier of steel with ultimate magnificence. The light collects towards the tip of the sword, forming a glowing orb of light like a nebula from the heavens. Then suddenly, the orb shoots out towards the North Atlantic Sea like a beam pointing into the direction of the horizon that is far beyond reach for anyone of Dreamfinder and his team. The Dreamfinder tilts the sword back and forth, noticing the light beam is following his every move while still shining brightly to no end clear across the ocean.

**************************************************************************************

Not far from Camlann, the Queen of England and Dr. Channing arrive at the abandoned castle where, to Channing's greatest disgust, they encounter the deceased pig that is now covered with a full layer of flies buzzing over it. The sight of a hairy bloodied pig has Channing ready to throw up on the spot but seeing the incredible amount of flies already present he would be summoning them all to his unwelcome puddle of sewage. Therefore covering the poor man and the queen who hopefully won't kill him for it in a never-ending swarm of tiny flying buzzards.

"Good Lord!" Channing gasped, covering his mouth with a triangle of his lab coat collar.

The queen dismounts her horse and approaches the pig, examining it carefully: kicking it slightly and sniffing the rancid putridity of the corpse's perfume. She winced. Her eyes, brows, and nose all cringe in tight wrinkles as she gives out a short, choked-up cough.

"This pig is still green with death and gore, just recently slain." said the queen with disgust. " Its visage hast been did kick a few times by a hard shoe. Thy enemies might not but has't been h're and hath left this castle."

"You can really tell just by that?" said a surprised Dr. Channing, tilting his head back towards the queen and the dead pig with his collar still over his mouth.

"Forsooth, I can. This beast wast only just been hath killed. I'd sayeth this m'rning. Th're is nay oth'r town 'r castle f'r miles in this realm, these tracks below us by this beast art still green of footprints deeply did press from the rainst'rm last night of all, and I senseth a v'ry pow'rful source wast just presenteth and hadst hath left m're moments ago. Those gents might not but beest on the moveth once again."

"By how long, would you say?"

"Half a day." she guessed. "Those gents has't taken a headeth starteth early this m'rning. T's possible those gents may has't arriv'd in camlann by anon."

"But what could Dreamfinder, Figment, and Rachel possibly do once they are there?" Channing asked. "From what I recall, Camlann is just around the south western end of England. What significance could possibly be in going there?"

"As I has't hath said, it is the did suppose death lodging of mine own broth'r, Arthur, at which hour that gent combated 'gainst our son at the age at which hour our son shouldst has't becometh King of England, but hast been slain bef're that gent couldst and leaving arthur only wound'd. Arthur hadst to payeth dearly f'r his death, so in his weakness, I hadst taken that gent from th're and across the flote to mine own kingdom wh're I hadst did imprison that gent in his chains to roteth and kicketh the bucket in his cell and leaveth his people to believeth that gent hadst kicked the bucket in hurlyburly."

"Well, I can't say that was a noble act on your part, but--wait, WHAT?! Your son was also his son?!" Channing shouted with shock. "I thought you said Arthur was your brother?!"

"I didst. It is because I hadst hath used mine own charm to dissemble Arthur to bethink I wast his true queen without that gent truly knowing that gent wast und'r mine own spelleth. Yond way, while the blood of the Penndragon wouldst liveth on and Arthur wouldst has't an heir to his throne, I wouldst has't regain'd mine own right to ruleth the landeth mine own true fath'r hadst hath lost to. "

"Your true father?"

"A longeth timeth ago, mine own fath'r, the king of Cornwall at the timeth, wast trying to defend mine own moth'r, Queen Igrane, from the hands of England's past king, Uther Penndragon. But with the pow'r of Merlin's charm, Uther hadst then disguis'd himself as mine own fath'r to mine own moth'r, while mine own real fath'r hadst been hence from the castle and kicked the bucket trying to findeth Uther. Uther hadst then madeth loveth to mine own moth'r 'long with taking mine own fath'r's landeth in union to his, thus bringing Arthur to the w'rld and propheciz'd by Merlin to beest England's true king."

"Merlin?" Channing uttered with wide-open eyes. "He's real?!"

"Of course, that gent is real!" the queen irritably shouts. "Wh're hast thou been? The Johns? Yond is, that gent wast real up until I hadst encas'd that gent into hiding with one of his owneth spells. The old fool bethought that gent couldst besteth the young and quite quaint yond is me. But with that gent out of the way and mine own broth'r taken from his throne, I anon ruleth all of England in the palms of mine own hands. All yond is hath left to doth is to eradicate the fiends yond has't recently intrud'd mine own landeth and threaten to taketh the throne backeth from me. Once yond is done, I can claimeth the off'r thou hast off'r'd me and ruleth the rest of the w'rld und'r mine own controleth with mine own broth'r burning below me to ashes in a blaze of fire!"

"…Wow. You really have this big grudge going on against your brother. That's unhealthy."

"Thou art one to talketh consid'ring the events yond has't taken lodging between thee and thy friend. Am I wrong, Sir Channing?"

She is right. The feud between Nigel Channing and Eli Finder are very much similar compared to Queen Morgan and her brother. Almost the same! Could Nigel have really brought Eli into the depths of hell for his own selfish gain? And if he did, what was the point? And was it even worth it? Was it even worth to do what he had done in the hopes of resuming their research after everything they had been through? Was it really worth all of the knowledge they had gained to control imagination?

The queen turns away from Channing for a moment with his thoughts to look at the dark and empty castle. It had seen better days, but now it looks to have been worn down both by weather and time. A mixture of melancholy, frustration, and rage are boiling inside of her, but she lets off a smug careless sneer.

"An eyes're of the English grounds and yet t still stands." Morgan scoffs. "The most belov'd castle in all of England anon in ruins. Pitiful." Turning back to Nigel with a look of determination on her slightly aged face as it shows the crinkly wrinkles of her angered brow, she says, "We must go! If 't be true we hie, we may just catcheth those folk bef're those gents obtaineth the key to proce'd furth'r."

"Key? What key?" Channing asks.

"A sword. A sword yond is hath said it can beest wield'd by the one true rul'r of England. It hast the pow'r to smiteth the w'rst of foes and setteth paths through the most complicat'd roads to the most fantastic realms."

"If that is true, then why don't you have it right now?"

"That…is not important." Morgan grunts with a seething tense building up in her tone of voice and her arms and hands clenched into fists. "What is imp'rtant is yond we maketh t to Calmann bef're those folk and retrieveth the sw'rd bef're those gents doth!"

"But what about bringing your…son…back to life?"

"In timeth. Mine own castle hast ev'rything we needeth to bringeth mine own son backeth from the dead. But we wilt maketh haste to Camlann immediately. Cometh! we rideth anon!

The queen hastily mounts back onto her horse, leaving the dead pig and the abandoned castle behind. Nigel steadily struggles to hop onto his horse again, intimidated by its evil green-smog eyes staring deep into the poor doctor's soul. He carefully mounts his horse and follows the queen from behind. The sweat pouring down on his forehead downward are freezing his face in this chilling weather. Meanwhile, as she rides, Queen Morgan puts her knights helmet back and races forward ever so faster with the intensity of her eyes glaring brightly like a dragon's rage. Their quest to catch up to Dreamfinder and his group will be close, but if they hurry fast enough if Dr. Channing doesn't lag behind through his horse troubles, they might just make it.

Through her helmet, the queen repeatedly mutters a single word under her fast-pacing breath: a name. A name that is all too familiar for her ears to hear. A name she wishes it would have already left her mind and never have to think twice of again. But with this rising matter at large, she can never escape. It must have brought this name back to come and haunt her of her jealousy to the end of her days, however long it should be. With every repetition of the name her teeth tightens shut, her eyes are narrow with increasing rage, her grip on her horse reigns, and her heels kicking harder and harder against her horse's side to speed up faster than a rushing river. With her mind and eyes set straight for her prize, the queen advances towards her goal to make sure England remains hers.

"Arthur…"

**************************************************************************************

"The sword is shooting light!" shouted Figment to his surprise.

"WAAAAAAAAAK!!!!" Algar shrieks in terror. Flapping his wings wildly, he scurries himself to hide behind Rachel and Dreamfinder and trembles.

"Oh, that is SO something you’d see in some 80's-90s fantasy graphic novel comic book. Or more likely an 80's television show. This place has everything!"

"Extraordinary!" yelled Dreamfinder. "It seems the sword is shining down a path for us! But where?"

"You don't think it's the path that will lead us to the king, do you?" Figment asks.

"It has to be! We've come all this way to Camlann since it was our only lead to find him. And this sword must be providing us the path to get to him."

"I'm starting to get the feeling this sword used to personally belong to the king where he must have had his blood and fingerprints all over the thing before he had gone so somebody could find him later."

"Hmm…that might actually be it!" said Dreamfinder with a beaming smile.

"What? Really?" said Rachel with her eyes lit up. "No way!"

"Hear me out…somehow, the king must have known something awful was going to happen to him one way or another--something that would have sealed his fate forever. He was fighting the enemy, got wounded, he dropped the sword; possibly for someone to find later, and then he disappeared somehow without a trace."

"So this sword is supposed to be a way to find this king once it's been found and return it him?" Figment guesses. "Like a homing signal?"

"Exactly!" said Dreamfinder. "And if I'm right, he must have known at least one person would eventually come out of hiding, find the sword, and return it to him."

"And in this case, that's you, Dreamfinder!" said Rachel with a realized tone of shock. "I guess we can now safely say this sword is important in this quest and all my efforts of getting it back for you are not wasted."

"Mm-hmm! Mm-hmm!" murmured Algar with nodding head of agreeance.

"The questions are: 'How did he know in advance how I would be the one to retrieve the sword for him' and 'Where is the place this beaming is leading us to?' " Dreamfinder wonders allowed.

"Let's start with the second question!" Figment suggests. "Where the beam is going."

"And just how are we supposed to get to the other end of it when it's across the ocean?" Rachel fills in. "We only have only horse and I highly doubt it will do any more service for us from here on out."

"Yes, indeed!" said Dreamfinder with concern. "Especially since our imaginations, more or less, have no effect in our new surroundings for some strange reason. Such a shame. I was hoping to imagine Basil's horse growing wings to get us across. It sounded appropriate given where, or when, we are now."

"Isn't there a boat around here we can use?" Rachel asks.

"I'm not sure if there is one," said Dreamfinder, "but perhaps Algar can fly up around the coast and see if there is one. Will you do that for us, Algar?"

"RORER!" Algar shouts happily, as in "ROGER!", saluting his friend's request.

The little gryphon shoots up into the sky with all of his friends sitting below him. He scours the skies over the trees nearest to the camp and heads over towards the coastal area. There is nothing but miles and miles of waving lines of sands and rocks, defining the line between the land and sea. And just as there is nothing but, the same went for any nearby boats. But then suddenly, after minutes of searching, a small boat appears into view! With an explosive flurry of excitement rushing through his little body, Algar retraces his steps landmarks and returns back to Dreamfinder, Figment, and Rachel, beckoning to follow him back through a series of squawks and furiously loud flapping feathers.

They arrive back to the boat, observing its current state. IT is large enough to fit all four of them and probably another rider or two. It looks a little worse for wear, but the underbelly of the boat seems to not have much leaks or gaps. It would need a few patches to cover them up. It's a plain-looking boat; a lot different compared to the one they rode on the lake where the sword had been. Small hang-nailing splinters of wood are sticking out on the side rails. The wood that is covered underwater is layered with mold and tiny barnacles. Two oars sit inside the boat with three benches to sit on and a torn sail draping down.

"Well…it’s better than nothing." said Rachel as she shoves her fists into her pockets.

"It shouldn't be so hard to fix." said Figment with confidence.

"He's right." said Dreamfinder. "All we need to do scrape off the barnacles, replace a couple of boards, repair the sail, and we should be on our way."

"BLECH!" exclaimed Algar in disgust for labor.

"Have you even fixed a boat before?" asked Rachel with uncertainty in her tone.

"Of course!" said Dreamfinder. "I had a childhood friend and colleague at the Academy Scientifica-Lucidus back in London whose father was a fisherman with his own boat. Every time he would take us and my siblings who were old enough to go, he would teach me how to steer, fix, and take precautions when sailing. There was also this little rowboat on a lake near my cottage my father and I would…uh, never mind. I'm rambling a bit. This boat right here shouldn't take much effort to fix by hand."

Strange, Rachel had thought. The moment when Dreamfinder had mentioned his father, he suddenly stopped short, put it aside, and moved on like it was nothing. She noticed the excitement in Dreamfinder's tone completely deplete at the mention of the word. She even saw Figment bring up a look of surprise on his purple-scaled face as if he knows something about it. He did only mention his siblings and his mother an no one else. She figured that was the only family Blair had before Figment came along and had gone on his imaginative journeys. Then Rachel wondered, "Did Blair have some kind of bad relationship with his dad? Are we both one of the same with 'daddy-child' problems?" Of course, the utmost priority at hand is the boat, so Rachel decided to leave this aside for now and let Dreamfinder do his work. It's hard to imagine the Dreamfinder, of all people, to have some dark secret.

"That's fine." said Rachel. "But there's still one problem: we don't have an axe or anything related to one to cut wood with."

"We still have the sword you pulled out for us!" Figment pointed out, raising the glowing sword in hand, realizing just now how really heavy it is for his small size and topples over behind him. He is then raised back up by his helpful creator to his feet.

"That is true, Figment." said Dreamfinder, taking the sword in hand from Figment. "Though it does worry me to think the sword might break into pieces against the hard wood."

"You never know until you try! Come on! Slice that tree over there!"

Unsure if Figment's idea is the best move, the Dreamfinder turns his gaze to Algar and Rachel only to have received a shrug from both of them. It might not be a bad idea after all. He takes the glowing sword from the lake and approaches a tree. Lifting it midair, the Dreamfinder braces himself and strikes a hard horizontal slice through the tree's midsection. As the blade draws closer to the bark on the tree, the glowing illuminates even brighter than before. At the first touch, the sword, as if some otherworldly prank had come to play, the sword makes a super clean-cut as it slices straight across the one tree along with tens more trees, maybe fifty, behind it, creating a racket of rustling leaves and snapping branches as all the trees fly away by such a great force.

In shock, the group in such a shuddered state, with Dreamfinder being the most wide-eyed a the moment, stand frozen at the sight of this phenomenon that had just happened. Hands shaking, legs quivering, and spines tingling, they all have yet to see the apparent true power of the sword Dreamfinder now holds.

"Wha-?!" The poor Dreamfinder, in regards to this sudden event, is caught in a deep state of awe that he can hardly say a word. His nerves are tremendously shaking, but his hands remain content in its contact with this spectacular sword, used in a way that, all things considered, was far beyond his imagination.

"Whoa!" Algar whistles, impressed at what just happened.

"Dude, forget the raft! We've got enough wood now to make a ship!" cried Rachel with a skyrocketing excitement that has formed the huge grin on her face.

"Wowie-wow, Dreamfinder! That was outstanding!" shouted Figment with a buzz of sparks sparkling inside of him. "So outstanding, it was amazing! So amazing that is was fantastic! So awesome that I can't think of another word to describe it because of super awesome it was! Oh wait, I just did another word, didn't I?" He giggled at his unintended joke and then continued. "How did you do that, Dreamfinder? I didn't know you were so strong!"

"…Me neither." uttered Dreamfinder to Figment with his eyes still bewildered and wide and his head slightly tilted to Figment's view, as he observes the sword in different angles, looking for something odd or different that made this extraordinary moment occur. "This can't be my own doing. I'm not that strong as a human being and I certainly using my imagination either. There must be some kind of powerful entity residing in the blade."

"Obviously!" Rachel shouted. "Didn't you see the glowing…it rising from the lake…those freaky lake witches that nearly…it-it-it- LOOK AT THE TREES!!!"

"Yeah!" shouted Algar. "ROO-RA-RA-REES!!!"

"Now that we have plenty of wood right here, we can fix the boat and follow where the sword wants to go! Right, Dreamfinder?"

""Uhh…" Still spaced out staring at the sword, Dreamfinder could not utter a word. Not in the state he is in, to say the least.

"Dreamfinder?"

"Huh? Oh! Oh, yes! Right!" Dreamfinder finally snaps out of his awestruck spell and returns the sword to his sheath. "There is plenty of wood to with! And since our imagination can't help us out for some strange reason, this job is going to take some extra team effort." He then turns to Algar and says, "Algar, you help me carry the wood to the boat. I'll chop the wood and put all the necessary pieces together. Figment, you can help repair the sail; leaves, cloth, bark, whatever you can find. And see if you can find some kind of rope or strong string to tie them up with. And Rachel?"

"Yes?" said Rachel with hope.

"You're still weak from your encounter with those lake women, I really don't want you to use up any more of your energy than you already have. Foremost, I want you to rest. You can keep watch and let us know if something happens or if someone is coming."

"…Fine." Rachel sighs in defeat. He wasn't wrong. That moment with the lake women down below has really taken a toll on her. Yet, the sound of Dreamfinder saying "extra team effort" had gotten her excited to actually want to do more. But now she can't.

That look again. The Dreamfinder, he hated that look on Rachel's face. But it was not out of spite, but of pity. Of course, he knew it and wanted Rachel to help fix the boat, but his concern over her health and safety are at the higher end of the scale. He wanted to make it up to her somehow. All the jobs to fix the boat had already been given out, so that's out. He can’t give her a hug and a kiss after that one awkward moment back at the castle this morning. So what's left?

"It's okay, Blair." said Rachel with an unconvincing smile. "I'm a little tired anyway. I'll just go sit up at that rock and keep an eye out. No worries."

"Are you sure?" Dreamfinder asks.

"Yeah! Yeah, it's cool. I've got some things to think about anyway."

"Well, alright. If you need anything, let us know."

Much to Dreamfinder's disheartenment, he watches Rachel walk away towards the giant boulder she had just seen and giving him a small wave back to him. As she perches onto the top of the rock, the Dreamfinder turns back towards Figment and Algar who greet him with a look of blank uncertainty mixed with an upsetting disgust. Their arms are crossed over their chests, giving the indication they are not happy he just shut Rachel out from helping despite Dreamfinder saying they needed everybody's help.

"I know, I know. I'm terrible." said Dreamfinder with a groan muttered from his head hanging down with guilt.

The amount of time to fix the boat had taken up to two hours at most. Dreamfinder had done most of the work nailing down each piece of wood both Figment and Algar had flown back and forth lifting and pushing the smaller sized trees to the boat, while the larger sized ones they would bring over with Dreamfinder's help. In his disgust, Algar had pecked off the barnacles from the side of the boat with his beak. When finished helping carry the wood and trees, Figment returned to find whatever scraps of anything to fixing the sail. He finds so many pieces of light-weighted but sturdy bark along with some long strands of both rope and vines. The little purple dragon ties everything together, most of which he keeps tying up into knots including himself until he finally manages to make a strong and flat sail. Dreamfinder, taking one piece of wood at a time with his boat-fixing knowledge, has plugged up every hole the boat had previously taken until there wasn't a single leak to be seen.

Meanwhile, Rachel, perched on top of the boulder-like a bird at rest, has been keeping watch of her friends doing their work. As mentioned, this whole thing lasted two hours and in this time span, a large wave of boredom had washed over the poor girl. Rachel lays back onto her back completely arched to the boulder's shape all alone. Groaning loudly, she watched the time pass by in the sky as small flocks of birds fly by and the clouds grow bigger and even drearier. If Algar had not been enlisted to help Dreamfinder and Figment, she'd have someone to talk to again.

"That must not be comfortable for your back. You should sit up and stretch." A familiar voice had come into light completely out of nowhere and sounded into Rachel's ears.

Rachel shoots back to sitting up. She turns around and finds Yuna, standing behind her. Graceful as can be, much to Rachel's curiosity of her mysterious mother-like presence, she has once again appeared unexpectedly out of nowhere at a time when Rachel most likely needed despite her occasional raging objections.

"Yuna!" shouts Rachel, but not loud enough for Dreamfinder, Figment, and Algar to hear.

"Hello, Rachel. I have just now returned." said Yuna with a warm smile.

"Returned? Just now returned?! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!"

"What?"

"It couldn't possibly have taken you this long to fix the Dream Machine, not that I'm ungrateful for that. But jeez! You couldn't use your magic to finish the job fast enough and be there when I needed you?!"

"My magic has somehow been limited in repairing your vessel for some reason. And I take it that I've missed quite a lot, then."

"Not a lot; EVERYTHING!" Rachel shouted angrily, a lot louder than intended. "We're being chased by this madman knight, got trapped in a dark forest, found that this is Medieval England that is being plagued by some curse, had to sleep in a dark abandoned castle, got chased by a mangy pig, had been riding on horseback (well, mostly Dreamfinder. The rest of us were flying. I've grown used to that by now), then we lose one of our weapons, I ALMOST DROWNED BY A GANG OF RAVENOUS LAKE WITCHES--!!!"

"Oh my!" said Yuna with wide-opened eyes of fear and shock.

"--And to top it all off, I'm constantly losing conscious every now and then because apparently, I'm being possessed by some kind of white spirit whom I've only been seeing in my reflection and only Dreamfinder, Figment and Algar have been the only few people in the world to have seen it in person!"

"What spirit? Wait. You don't mean…Fantasia?!"

"You know of it? Actually, I'm not even surprised you would know."

"Yes, I know of Fantasia. Its spirit is quite the spunky one. And very playful, too."

"I might have noticed that, actually. Fantasia looks like it keeps teasing me every time I see its presence. It'd just closes its eyes gleefully, waves back at me, and disappears."

"That's Fantasia for you!" Yuna giggles. "Always the mischievous one! I've yet to wonder what sort of visage it has taken over ever since it became one with you."

"Became one with what now?!" Rachel stammers.

"Oh, have I not mentioned this?"

"NO! YOU NEVER MENTIONED ANYTHING ABOUT FANTASIA AT ALL! And you still never mentioned anything more about who your father is and why he would be after me, seeing as how I'm apparently the Tomorrow's Child and everything."

"Seems like I have a lot more to explain to you than I thought. Are you comfortable sitting and talking about it then?"

"No, but go ahead anyway. My back is killing me as it is, I might well hear what Hell awaits for me to be killed with. Added that I've almost just drowned just to grab some shiny sword for Dreamfinder."

"A sword? What?"

"Never mind. I'll tell you later. Go on."

"But first…" Yuna lowers herself behind Rachel carefully onto her knees, avoiding to rupture her dress. Her gentle pale hands are placed onto Rachel's shoulders as she firmly digs her fingers deep into her muscles. Rachel tenses a bit. She realizes how uncomfortable she has been feeling for a very long time. Not just for lying down wrong on the boulder, but everything else that is happening including Fantasia's unforeseen presence almost controlling her constantly, as well as this rising emotion she is feeling towards Dreamfinder. So much that her brain is beginning to crack. With Yuna's strong but gentle hands, Rachel finally begins to relax through a very deep sigh. This is just what she needs. She lowers her eyes as Yuna continues to speak. She continues, "…a good massage should do you good. And I'll keep watch for anything suspicious."

"Mmm…"

"Let's start with Fantasia. For what Fantasia is is unknown to the people of Earth, but to my people, Fantasia is what we call a Sparklet."

"A Sparklet? What is that?"

"A foreign intelligent entity of great power, wisdom, and wonder, capable of creating or conquering anything it thinks or sees. However, Sparklets are usually very benevolent beings when it comes to serving the dire needs of people on the unfortunate side."

"What? They’re helpful beings?"

"Unless provoked. If a Sparklet has been agitated more than enough times at once, it will show its wrath onto the one who oppresses it. But generally, a Sparklet is normally there for someone who is at the very lowest in their life. Unfortunately, except for you, Sparklets cannot be seen by anyone on Earth due to the mass of dark power made by my father, so most people on Earth have had to come up with their own ways to bring about their dreams into the light. They are known for their playfulness in shapeshifting into anything they see, touch, or feel and they flourish ever more within their own realms and the minds of others; both formed out of the resources of the imagination made form the brain. Sparklets are very abstract in shape and form. Because of this, they can change into anything they want…and I mean anything! The longer they live and grow, the longer they thrive. And the longer they thrive, the more powerful they become. And finally, the more powerful they become, the longer they last."

"Just like dreams." Rachel assumes.

"Exactly!" said Yuna. "They thrive within the dream realms that even one mind can create, which is infinite. And like dreams, they can either remain new and fresh as the day it was born or live on forever contained within that one mind or shared with everyone. Whatever the case, the Sparklets remained in existence for all time. Or least, that's what we believed."

"Uh-oh, here it comes." said Rachel sarcastically. "The bad thing happens, right?"

"When my father took reign of the throne over my people," Yuna started, "his first priority was to find the Tomorrow's Child. And at that time before he believed it was the Dreamfinder, he thought the real one would be someone straight from the Sparklets' realm because he had recently heard of one particular Sparklet who had the strength of thousands more of Sparklets. With that kind of power, it was likely for that one Sparklet to be considered a god."

"And that Sparklet is Fantasia, I assume?"

"Correct. Even though Fantasia had only just been born, the rest of the Sparklets agreed that the Tomorrow's Child could be no one other than Fantasia."

"Wait. I thought I was the Tomorrow's Child."

"Well, you both are, actually. Let me explain. When my father found out that Fantasia would be the one to oppose him in a later time, he sent an army of his best men to smite it along with every other potential Sparklet who could take its place. But not before the Sparklets had secretly sent Fantasia away to a safer place. The Sparklets went under siege and their realm had been cast in ruin. No Sparklet other than Fantasia had survived that day and poor Fantasia had been left all alone to fend for itself. I'm not sure how long it had been wandering across the depths of space, but it did eventually end up floating about by my bedroom window at my homeworld."

"Whoa, what? Fantasia lost its home under the enemy's hands and it just happened to wander off into the same enemy's doorstep?!"

"Of sorts, but thankfully it wasn't my father who had found Fantasia there. I watched Fantasia come closer to my window when I opened it. The poor thing was so tired from running away it needed so badly to rest. So I kept Fantasia hidden away in my room in secret from my father and his watchmen until it finally recovered."

"Well, that was nice of you." said Rachel in a plain tone, still trying to relax from Yuna's continues shoulder rubbing. "And I'm guessing Fantasia did something for you in return, huh?"

"…Yes, it did." Yuna warmly said. "And it was worth it." Yuna released one of her hands from rubbing the right shoulder and gently placed it over Rachel's head. She feels the girl's dry and tangled brown hair, possibly from camping out in a more primitive realm when she could be luxuriously taking a nice hot shower in the Dream Machine and softly pats her. At first, Rachel had closed her eyes as if taking in this sweet sensation, but when it came clear to her that this was out of the ordinary, even from Yuna, her eyes blink right back open and she turns her head to face Yuna.

"What are you doing?" asked a very confused Rachel.

"Uh--Forgive me." said Yuna, blushing a small smile out of guilt. "I was…just noticing how messy and dry your hair is. You haven't taken a shower since you and the others had left the Dream Machine yesterday, have you?"

"I don't think I've taken a shower since before coming to the Scientifica-Lucidus and dealing with the Doubt Monster in Florida. It shows, doesn't it?"

"It does."

"Well, I really don't want to clean myself out in this realm. Any possible pervert could be lurking nearby and get a good look at me."

"It's understandable, dear. Additionally, I wouldn't want you to bathe yourself hear with this curse being cast in this realm."

"So then why would Fantasia want to nestle itself inside me? It could have gotten anywhere else after you took care of it."

"After I had nurtured Fantasia back to health, it promised me anything I desired. To tell you the truth, there was someone I loved dearly that I had to save…my own daughter."

"What? Really? You're a mother?"

"I am. She's about your age in Earth years right now actually. The only problem was that when she was born, her heart was unstable and my father had all the heart transplants in my world under reserve for the organic soldiers in his army."

"Organic?" Rachel winced.

"We have robot soldiers, too." Yuna replies.

"Whoa."

"There were no exceptions, even in the royal family other than my father himself, who were allowed to have such treatments. I was at the brink of a loss with my first and only child. But Fantasia stepped up and volunteered to provide its own energy for her until I'd find a better heart to make the transplant."

"That's really noble of Fan- wait. You're not getting close to me or the others to get that heart, are you?

"Oh no! Of course not!" Yuna giggled. "I wouldn't wish that on you or anyone. Not unless they were willing. Least of all, not you."

"Just as well." said Rachel with glum. "I remember my mom telling me I nearly died of heart failure at birth, too. But then somehow I just…came back. Like nothing had ever happened at all. My mom thought it was a miracle, but you know my dad. He cared less about it. It's like he wanted me to die right there. At least, that's what I believe." As she continues, her eyes begin to swell with tears spouting out like a fountain and falling into a pool. "I mean, he's my father! How can one single man with half of my own blood possibly hate his child? And a second-born out of four, no less! He treats my brother and sisters with enough respect as it is! Why not me?! He thinks I'm so worthless in every way that he actually thought my position as a Custodian at Disney was the perfect place for me because he thought I belonged with all the rest of the trash everybody throws out! I just…I just…why? WHY?!"

"Rachel…" Yuna stops rubbing and cups Rachel's cheek, turning her head to face Yuna. Yuna's hand cuddles Rachel's cheek tenderly as she gently expresses to her, "…at the very least, you are not trash. You're beautiful! And you're right; a father should never hate his child, but love them constantly. That's among one of the many things you and I have in common, as sad as it is. You deserve far much better than how he treated you. There are to be some times when you believe you are all alone without a friend or a loved one by your side. That is why every one of us; myself, the guardians who have watched over you this whole time, and no less Dreamfinder, Figment and Algar; we are ALL here to protect and guard you from every possible danger. Even when the time should come for you to face your destiny as the Tomorrow's Child; as what you are truly meant to be if not even that. We love you."

The sweet sound of the word "love" being told straight to Rachel alone is enough for Rachel to give in to her emotions and to let her tears wash her away. She buries her head against Yuna's shoulder and neck, soaking them with her ever-constant weeping. Then Rachel feels herself making a small jump at the slow-moving touch of Yuna's warm arms wrapping around her. Her ears are ringing to Yuna's sweet golden voice singing a humming lullaby similar to the song Yuna had sung to her before. Back then to the time when Rachel had that nightmare about Uncle Eli in peril while under Abiteth's toxic gas that Yuna had rescued her from. Her singing has soothed Rachel from her frustration against her father that Rachel had nearly forgotten what they were talking about. Something about Fantasia and Sparklets and Yuna's father. She slowly lifts herself to a sitting position, giving Yuna a small smile of gratitude.

"Thanks, Yuna." said Rachel warmly. "I'm sorry I freaked out right there."

"It is of no consequence, my dear." Yuna replied warmly as well. "I'm glad you got it out of your chest. You needed to let it out when you had the chance. How are you feeling now?"

"Better, thanks. Now, where were we?"

"Fantasia and my daughter's heart transplant."

"Oh, yeah! So then what happened to your daughter? Did Fantasia save her? Otherwise, why would Fantasia be here right now?"

"Fantasia…Fantasia has done what it has wanted to do." Yuna hesitantly said with little restraint. "My daughter is safe and now Fantasia is here to help you with whatever you need."

"So I guess since we are both the Tomorrow's Child in one, that means, whether I like it or not, I've got no choice but to work together with Fantasia until the end, huh?" said Rachel with a defeated sigh.

"I'm afraid so. Sorry."

"Whatever. At least Dreamfinder, Algar and Figment know Fantasia's patterns coming in and out of my subconscious. Now about your father…who is he?"

"He's Nebulus." Yuna blankly said.

"…He's who now?" said Rachel with wide eyes.

"Nebulus."

"You're joking. You're joking, right?"

"I'm afraid not."

"…"

"…"

**************************************************************************************

"We're just about done." said Dreamfinder with a smile. After hours of repairing the small boat, it's finally done. "All that's let is this last nail." But as Dreamfinder raises his hammer, a loud shout just boomed an echo in the air, stunning Dreamfinder and making him bend the nail with a slight mishap of his trajectory.

"ARE YOU FRICKIN' KIDDING ME?!"

This sudden shriek was loud enough to have cracked a glass window. All three of Dreamfinder, Figment, and Algar have their heads swinging in circles unaware of the main source until their ears finally catch on the actual path.

"Wa-ra-rap?!" said Algar who asked, "What was that?!"

"That sounded like Rachel!" clamored Figment with his heart pumping rapidly from the sudden shouting. "She's in trouble!"

"Come on! We've got to help her!" said Dreamfinder.

The Dreamfinder grips his hammer tightly, grabs the sword, and sprints off to Rachel's location with Algar and Figment following behind. Something bad must have happened. What if someone had snuck up and is holding Rachel captive? It could be that freak knight from before popping out for its revenge for leaving it back in the forest yesterday. Or the lake women trying to win the sword back? Or maybe Rachel might have fallen off the boulder and hurt herself. Or worse, what if all of those things happened at once? Whatever the case, everyone sensed that Rachel must be in treacherous peril as if the incident in the lake wasn't bad enough, and not one of these three brave man, dragon and gryphon are planning to back down without a fight.

"Hang on, Rachel!" Figment shouts. "We're coming!"


End file.
